When mourning turns to dancing
in the rhythm of the words that
pour onto the page to purge
the depths of sorrow, rage
to search for meaning in
disaster, comfort in the
loss as insight buried
deep within rises to
the surface of the
mind — bearing
wisdom stored
for such time
as this
like a firm
fishing pole
patiently finds
its catch so my
pen plumbs the
depths of my quest
to understand a loss
so deep, yet wider than
any ocean, as empty and
disorienting as being adrift
at sea — until answers begin
to emerge in the shape of hope
and direction as to navigating this
unknown world with new purpose
JoMae
1/14/22
2 comments:
Oh, it looks lovely as a chalice, goblet or even a candle holder maybe!
Thanks, Lee. So many ways to delight in words! I added the photo later, and only after publishing saw how the form also echoes the picture. I'm glad you stopped by!
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