my beloved pounamu.
there are days when i feel bruised,
an injury i have forgotten leaves me wincing.
there are days when i am a tender shoot,
and the world feels frosty.
there are days when i require softness and quiet all around me,
the caress of a stone in my hand.
there are days when i need to be held by a yielding couch
swept away from the scratchyplace by words and silence
there are days when i want to go home
...here's my hand, a ghazal for the year's turn
-
sometimes watch your thoughts: leaves floating by on a stream
other times, hunt your thoughts down, be a predator
the witness knows which thoughts pass, ...
13 years ago
{{hug}}
ReplyDeleteand so my dear sweet delicious and juicy jane, come home. unfurl your mermaid hair, turn your face to the sun and click your heals three times!! i'll leave the front door unlocked and the light on in your bedroom.
ReplyDeleteXXOO