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

Wednesday, October 8, 2014


She wraps herself in sheets
stained with tears and sweat
She has been stripped
of something vital
that she can't quite name
It makes no sense-
She had wished it all away
but still,
there was an undeniable connectedness
She makes the sign of the cross
though she stopped believing long ago
She closes her eyes
feels between her legs
She bleeds
a broken poem.

submitted for Imaginary Garden With Real Toads, Open Link Monday
and The Sunday Whirl, Wordle 181


Kerry O'Connor said...

Oh, this is so painful and yet written with such compassion. How difficult to put such an experience into words.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

WOW!!!!!!! A powerful write, and you wrote it so clearly I can see her. So effective: "She bleeds a broken poem."

Anonymous said...

I have to agree with the previous commenters--raw, real, well done.