SMOKE SiGNALS
An/other Haiku about Small Heat
SUNRiSE iN BOTTLE;
SHiPWRECK-SAFE ON NO-MAN'S SHELF?
ANOTHER DAY...FOUND.
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No Word Comes Near Enough
The English language has its limits. I learned this when I became a student of the Bible and looked up the Greek and Hebrew definitions behind the Scriptures I loved. Some languages have so much more depth and power than the one I use to convey my thoughts. But, even so, I don't think any word could ever come close to describing this void and pain I am journeying through. I don't know how to swim through its murky waters.
By Shirley Belk3 days ago in Poets
unreached
Your absence is A terrible kind of safety: You left a world That would have tried harder To do the job itself. Your armor now Is wood and soil, but Better than the fragile heart And skin to bear the wounds. The space where you were Will never heal But there is comfort In the weight of knowing Nothing can touch you now. The relief feels Like burning and betrayal Like a mouthful of pills, Like a phantom limb Grateful for the severance.
By Mina Carey7 days ago in Poets
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