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

Thursday, February 6, 2014

Softly, mostly

Softly, mostly,
a moth's wings
beating against closed palms,
comes the flutter

Too new to name
Inchoate emotion
We must wait,
see what blooms
Coax with quiet,
hope

Sometimes,
weakness is winnowed
Dies before it is born,
breath stolen by a ghost
or a doubt

But sometimes,
a bud
catches the light of a thousand sunrises,
 blossoms with joy

Sometimes,
a gentle awakening,
the footfall of fairies
dancing on ivory keys.

6 comments:

Brian Miller said...

smiles...a cool collage in this...love the opening..the soft moth wings on cupped hands..slight dip at the ghosts of doubt and then you bring on the magic with the faeries

Marcoantonio Arellano said...

so subtle, sometimes unseen are those little things that intertwine and mesh all that is.
you seem to capture that in this quiet peaceful piece

gracias, mi amiga

Kerry O'Connor said...

I love the final image.. There is something magical about feeling the words gathering, waiting to be set free.

Margaret said...

…the footfall of fairies. Yes, I invite them, they seldom show up. :)

Helena said...

Awww - you played your words beautifully here - breathtaking images produced!

Cait O'Connor said...

Gentle, beautiful.