Blood From a Stone
My words repeat. Nothing. Your ears are closed like frozen air. You always move away, shrinking me, disappearing me into invisibility.
My words repeat. I am naming flowers. I am calling the names of birds. They remain unretrieved, hesitating on the edges of sound.
My fences are broken. My guard is falling deeper and deeper into the ground. My map shows no return.
Whispering, I stand
trembling with the elements,
my cells unmoored.
The currents swim without me,
expanding the gulf between.
Jilly at dVerse asked for an unconventional haibun this week. That was easy–all my writing seems somewhat alien to me right now (or maybe my poetry is just always strange and I’m only now noticing it….)
The drawings are from photos of ancient Roman sculptures that have been broken by time. Amazing how much depth and emotion hidden inside the stone was revealed by those artists.