Monday, 6 July 2015


open to healing
splintered bones and
black hearts and
escaping souls

cool clay
to soothe the insidious burning illusion
that crawled through
the mind

like gentle quilts
sheathing grain
until the new life
is ready

to collapse



Linking to;
Wordle #206


X said...

So much symbolism in the crow.
We see a lot of them around here
no matter the omen.

I am intrigued on sheathing grain
I love old quilts, but I am wondering
at the covering of grain.

new life come regardless.

brenda w said...

Crows get a bad rap in our world. I appreciate your exploration of them, open to healing, offering cool clay to soothe illusion(love that bit), and gentle quilts. Loners, like some of us. Well done!

Jae Rose said...

I think the thought that will stay with me so the difference between collapsing and resonated...and perhaps i don't know fully why quite yet..a thoughtful and wise poem

Anonymous said...

One has to wonder if crows got a bad name because of their color, or because they so often talk back when spoken to. I like the imagery you used fueled by the word list. They so often take us to places unexpected and yield pleasant surprises. Your poem flows yet remains thought provoking,


Victoria said...

Sometimes I think our job in life is to break through all those illusions that we create (and have been created for us). I like how you've make the crow a central character in this process.

Cathy said...

Love it, such a solid poem. Everything is just prefect

Mama Pajama said...

I love the picture! and the words are pretty good, too!

Joanne Roth (BCI Jo) said...

I love:"... Like gentle quilts sheathing grain..."! Thought provoking photo and words to match. Nice job.

teri said...

This old crow flew and rested here a while with your words. Loners offering soothing and healing, bringing to life all that waits to be found. Thank you for stopping by my place Gemma.

Magical Mystical Teacher said...

I am pondering the thought that new life is fragile: It can collapse or crack with very little provocation. The crow knows.

Whirling with Marge

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