When I remember
slips
and pauses, down
often.
What, love?
Ghosts?
Palms to face, hold
the baby bird | my heart
one old one new my
father’s smile and
the waves | laughter
I hold pure and threatening.
A heart is full,
dark cry knifed in
the throat crawling,
the bark of trees
I cannot stop putting
a palm upon, there
a suspicion of beauty
is kept. A person can
become inevitable-
fresh snow, long arms
I hold them around the powder cold.
Published by Stephanie McManus
Poetry described as whimsical, daring and perceptive: my writing tends to reflect on life experience and human nature. I come from a humanist point-of-view with influences from non-theistic Christian and Buddhist philosophy.
http://ehlersdanloscontemplations.wordpress.com/ - a support to others living with chronic illness and Ehlers-danlos Syndrome.
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View all posts by Stephanie McManus
In Due Proportion 