jan 31
final stoning
weary of words willed
she longs for phrase spilled
of its own accord, unscored
by calendar square or stranger’s
dare or silent stare; perhaps loose
pebbles gathered at lakeside and
sprinkled into pockets for later,
greater than the some
of their brokenness. and this:
a foundation more solidly held
by the Rock, a daily pep
talk with her mermaid muse,
and a less confused
mind. wearing down her worry
-stone, she just might find the
wor(l)d’s been waiting for her
all this time.
….
I especially love your opening: “weary of words willed she longs for phrase spilled of its own accord, unscored by calendar square or stranger’s dare or silent stare.”
Thank you, ma’am.
All the wearing down/ rockiness of this poem portrays the roughness. I love “some / of their brokenness.”
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The words ARE waiting for you. And for that Jasmine C as well
Hope you don’t mind me commenting, since I’ve lost my other favorite blogger. I’ll just hang here for awhile
All the stones, worn down, but still waiting near where the mermaid will appear. Please, though, let this not be the final stoning, but a discovery that under the worn down there is a layer undiscovered.
Indeed. You always make the goose-flesh rise…such a beautiful way and I agree about the wor(l)d waiting…they are…mine is too…♥”s to you!