Age Perfect

Time passes slowly, quickly and all at once.

age perfect


shadows crawling up my spine
worming around my neck.
always tommrow to think of
the aches, the blue bruised tears
pressing beneath my eyes, the
bones clacking beneath my skin
a dia de los muertos skeleton..

cold shaking hands stutter after
the autumn leaves, looking for light
looking for peace, chasing fires and flying embers
A tired, shaken frame to
scatter through the ice and flame,
drag it foward, onward
to find something worth saving
before all the seconds fall away

and nothing more can be said
promised, written, understood,
forgiven, felt, cradled, kissed,
screamed, fought, won, blessed,
cursed, done, attempted, fallen for

the years will find me as I drag
on towards winter, silence and
sinewy trees bent by snow, defeated and bare,
I will find myself collecting stones for
my pocket and stars to burn into my palms
so I will know even when I am old
and can go no further, that I once
held something sacred.

Reviews

[WV_Poetess]

Creeping age is a scary thing, indeed. You put this piece together beautifully! You will have held something sacred; your dreams, your inspirations and your touch will live on long after the body is dust.

[Mary]

Reading this poem was like eating for my brain. (I know that sounds bizarre, but it basically just means I like it alot!) That last stanza is beautiful. Great job!