Thursday, May 17, 2007

Poetry thursday 5.17.07


Flesh laid open to the bone
in time scabbed over
scarred, not healed
hardened to rancor:
a twisted treasure
I held close
savoring the peculiar pleasure
of silent spite.

But malice is a stone
bitterly cold to the touch
damning, deceptively
burdensome to bear.

One day I stumbled under the load
saw how weary, wasted I’d become
how the only one I was wounding
was me.

Oh, how I wanted
to fling that stone away
as far, as fast as I had strength
I expected releasing to be harder
Worried I might have to
suffer for my spite
but somehow wanting was enough
and I let go.


Rob Kistner said...

Very poignant! A penetrating read.

Clare said...

This is REALLY good! I love how it took me right in with vivid visuals and deep feeling. There is a wonderful intensity to it. And I love how all that is followed by the line "but somehow wanting was enough/and I let go" -- the feeling switches to a gentle softening. Beautifully written!

chicklegirl said...

Thank you both, Rob and Clare!