#8: all the days (him as much as her)
with no reason to be here
there is no reason to go
anywhere else, either.
unaware you are wounded,
you will recover over years
as the bark of a tree
re/covers the wound
of a twisted band of wire
carelessly attached by a child
one summer—
patiently accumulating
layers of grey sorrow
until one day
without warning
the trunk will split.
by then, you will not even remember
her name, let alone
why she left.
you will be astonished—
genuinely mystified—
to find the gleaming wire
still wrapped tight
around your broken heart.
2 comments:
This piece of art is constantly flowing! This poem has motivated me to write with precision. I especially enjoyed your two concluding lines.
Thanks, Laura! Thanks, Jeff! This one is actually the last part of a different series, repurposed here as a Transformations poem. The original series was a three part poem called "Without Her" and was written for a friend going through some tough times. Glad you enjoyed it.
Post a Comment