Kintsugi
Living in dread takes a toll. Fear turns every blue sky charcoal. Death never gives up its patrol, all we have is a fragile parole. Fear turns every blue sky charcoal, we use sacred scrolls as blindfolds. All we have is a fragile parole – hairline cracks shatter, explode. We use sacred scrolls as blindfolds. We mend broken pottery with gold when hairline cracks shatter, explode. We pray these precious wounds hold. We mend broken pottery with gold – death never gives up its patrol. We pray these precious wounds hold. Living in dread takes a toll. Sheila Wellehan Sheila Wellehan's poetry is recently featured or forthcoming in Forklift, Ohio; Menacing Hedge; San Pedro River Review; Tinderbox Poetry Journal; Whale Road Review, and elsewhere. She lives in Cape Elizabeth, Maine. Visit her online at www.sheilawellehan.com.
4 Comments
9/13/2018 03:13:03 pm
Beautiful poem and a wonderful practice of repair that honors the cracks.
Reply
Sheila Wellehan
9/13/2018 08:12:13 pm
Thank you, Ann! I'm happy you enjoyed it.
Reply
Eleanor Gaetan
9/15/2018 12:02:02 am
Fascinating poem that keeps spinning in my mind. It's like a mobile, besides being a poem. Thank you, Sheila!
Reply
Sheila
9/16/2018 07:46:32 am
I'm delighted this poem struck a chord with you, Eleanor. It's a pantoum. Thank you for your kind words! : )
Reply
Your comment will be posted after it is approved.
Leave a Reply. |
The Ekphrastic Review
COOKIES/PRIVACY
This site uses cookies to deliver your best navigation experience this time and next. Continuing here means you consent to cookies. Thank you. Join us on Facebook:
September 2024
|