Against a great sorrow,
the bowed body wonders,
which world, now?
Though we could not
unsee the bars
they only kept
the fleshed halves
of ourselves
while the rest
being story
tended to fly.
Which world, now?
its witness
in a narrow cage,
looking.
Still,
this sky.
Lovely.
Thank you, Chris.
Excellent work, especially that last line!
Thank you, Bartholomew!
Any world might do … (So blessed to have your words in my life Stacey, … They give me direction, like a compass. I need you to know that.)
It moves me to read this, Richard. Thank you, dear friend.
owl shave and save for tomorrow
joys of the rising
and easing of lenten sorrow