Holding Out Our Hands to an Indifferent Sky



There’s a cost to forever.
The flighty freedom of rain
collected in spare jars. The
way the road grooves left,
a gift. A sign. There’s mercy
at the center of these tides
that bind. But alas,

my mouth’s a ghost town,
making an empty grave
of my own dark tongue.

 


wordled.


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8 Responses to Holding Out Our Hands to an Indifferent Sky

  1. blogoratti says:

    Splendid delivery. Well done.

  2. Jae Rose says:

    As ever your imagery is spell binding.. the last verse so vivid..

  3. a magic delivery from the box of words
    “The flighty freedom of rain
    collected in spare jars”

  4. qbit says:

    Amazing. Agreed, “flighty freedom…” is magic. But I like the ending as well, “mouth’s a ghost town” is stunning.

  5. colorfulpen says:

    I found a gentleness in these words along with something powerful. You know how to write!

  6. Wow. This is gorgeous, De. “There’s mercy at the center of these tides that bind.” 💗

  7. This is amazing, from start to finish.

  8. raSa says:

    ‘mouth’s a ghost town’ – Wow! Love this, De. Excellent use of words!

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