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Poetry is just the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash. Leonard Cohen

Monday, April 16, 2012

If I Could

Red Roofs, Marc Chagall, 1954
If I could rise above
these roofs
red with the blood of history
If I could dance on
these streets
stained with tears
If I could walk in 
this moonlight
casting shadows on our memories
I would still bring flowers
to lay on the graves.

submitted for The Mag 113

15 comments:

Susie Clevenger said...

What a wonderful interpretation of the image...history speaks to me so often. I dream of changing some things in my own history, but I must lay flowers on the graves of my mistakes.

M. A. S. said...

Pretty humble.

Brian Miller said...

touching...i like to walk among the graves...and even when we rise above we should remember...

Jo-Anne's Rambling said...

Beautiful and powerful

hyperCRYPTICal said...

Superb write.

Anna :o]

Dave King said...

Ah, perhaps you can... this write suggests you can. Love it.

Catfish Tales said...

sweet

darev2005 said...

Nice and evocative.

Some places just have a history that slaps you in the face.

Helen said...

'if I could' ... great Mag, Mouse!

Tess Kincaid said...

Beautiful Lola...

Sherry Blue Sky said...

Very poignant. Love the red blood of history, streets stained with tears, and the shadows of memory......this poem really struck my heart, especially the flowers on the graves.....

Margaret said...

Ah... memories works wonderfully here!

Helena said...

Colourfully poignant. A bunch of red red roses came to mind....x

Hey Monkey Butt said...

love love love this!

Jinksy said...

Well said, indeed.

Blogger has just caused a blip and given me the screen which would let me post on your blog! Oo er!
Second attempt brought up this comment box, though...