That third last hour
Between the world of night
And the world of day
I began writing poetry again
I haven’t felt like sharing
The things that bake between layers
When I’m living
You know
Just walking through it
But one day
You look up
And there is a thin crust
Over the top of everything
And you can‘t find yourself anymore
Which is when I need to write poetry
Listening with ear to chest
Watching the sky
Sitting with the silence until it covers me
Stillness like before I was born
is what is required to see who arises
in this moment
because we change so much
that when someone announces it
Like a sucked and salty lemon
Eyebrow flickering
“You’ve changed”
I have to stop
And attend to what that might mean
And I can’t do any of that
Without poetry
People think it’s just a string of words
Perhaps rhyming
But it’s not
It’s the remedy of self unfolding
Unwinding
Poetry is the language we all forgot
While swallowing words
And regurgitated feelings
Head underwater, drowning
Sinking
It’s the surface after the depth
A gentle gasp of air
That describes the way you’re living
When you can’t
Quite
Remember why
And obviously,
it’s healing
Have a wonderful day X
Yes yes yes. So many truths Kate. Breaking that crust and becoming again is a renewing feeling. For me, it’s my camera and every now and then the pen takes hold. Fabulous
I love the camera too bushboy – any art that leads us home – love that this landed with you, like minds we all are, or hearts at least 😊
I enjoy that minds and hearts can connect with words and photos.
bushboy aka Brian
Me too Brian – creative connections are the best – they are source level cheers Kate
“Stillness like before I was born
is what is required to see who arises
in this moment”
Says the introspective Kate I can so relate to.
Hi Mitch, the inerest inner is everyone – perhaps thats why we relate so easily on that level – lovely to hear from you 🍃
Great 👏👏
Thanks 😊
Welcome…let’s support each other by subscribing to each other’s page 🤝🤝
Beautifully penned
Thankyou 😊
excellent writing ✍️
Thankyou 🍃🙏