We collect letters like shells
Tiny fragments of self
New shoes on an autumn day
A fresh breeze
A waft of air upon our skin
The frail man waits in bed
Twists and turns
Unable to find comfort in the bedded quilt
All around is noise
But inside an aching silence
Such is time lost
A cymbal crashing into shore
Consonants tripping off a dry tongue
Poems dancing in the curtains
We are still but busy
We must always find something to do
The rain falls
The smell of water on hot concrete drifts in the window
It is a comfort
A gentle pulse
Life
The frail man moves slowly
But with purpose
He absorbs the water as it trickles down the window pane
He is connected to the earth by a thin thread of being
Raggedy shirt
Stuck to seeping flesh
And we wait
No room for idle hands
In the street of the sky night walks scattering poems.
Such a lovely atmospheric poem Jae💞 especially love the image "Such is time lost/A cymbal crashing into shore."
ReplyDeleteSuch a beautiful poem. I am reminded of a bedside gathering of the family when a loved one was dying. She, too, was "connected to the earth by a thin thread of being". Our hands, as well, could not be idle. I love this.
ReplyDeleteWow, you have outdone yourself with this one. What a vivid portrait you have painted. I love the opening line becoming the closing line. And poems dancing in the curtains!
ReplyDeleteLife slows, but lingers on here in this room with the rain on the windowpane... there's a waiting here, a thin thread between two "worlds"...
ReplyDeleteWow! What a great piece of writing Jae. You have certainly hit the nail on the head with this one. Beautiful words, stunning imagery and a real pleasure to read.
ReplyDeleteThe bed of undone, perhaps regrets... Some goodbyes begin long before the curtain falls. Beautiful
ReplyDeleteI think this must be the most beautiful thing you've ever written! The frail man, the quilt, the rain on the window ... I liked these external points of reference too.
ReplyDelete'all around is noise but inside an aching silence such is time lost'
ReplyDeleteYour poem reminds me of the many hours, days, months I spent among the memory care residents in the facility my mother lived in.
Beautiful images....scattering poems and poems dancing in the curtains, collecting letters like shells, consonants tripping.A still but busy poem.
ReplyDelete