Where did I go?
One of us calls.
I am out here
counting
the wrecks again,
to carry home.
Bags full of havoc,
to sort.
One at a time,
to see
what can be
saved by
meeting here.
The wreckage,
the gaze,
the still-living
hand.
sift
an organizing principle
Lovely – and thought provoking.
Chris, thank you. : )
Great piece!
Great poem about the after math of disasters.
Thank you, Jam : )
It’s an evocative and thought provoking poem.
Thank you, Thomas.