i am
a passerine
perched
on a fragile bough
quivering body
hunched
tight
hard
before the Furies
eyes closed
head tucked
into feathered
nape, vulnerable
weary
of storms
of the effort
to hold on
tight
hard
against
capitulation
listening
for a robin's trill
beneath
the keen
of winter
singing,
sway
breathe
draw deep
the zest
of ice and pine
feel the bite
the lick
the lash
of pain
for this
is living
now,
fly
I was listening to Leonard Cohen while reading this.
ReplyDeleteI had shivers, and a little cry.
Then you had a little cry at the same time I did. Such a comfort. Thank you Josh x
ReplyDeleteWow! You wrote that fast since this afternoon and I love it. Beautiful words -beautiful style
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Thank you Dee x
ReplyDeletewrought with the rhythm of potential, the cadence of assent. there is nothing more beautiful. now, fly. x
ReplyDeleteThank you, dear friend x
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