How Else Can I Explain?

Leaves touch dawn with their lips,

deep roots, swelling of earth.

 

Each morning is an empty room,

another insomnia.

 

This slumberous hour, tired rain

falls like delicate strings

 

and in between the tight passages,

the rising sparrows.

 

I see time’s current pulling winter

into spring, with iced puddles

 

glazed like dirty candy,

the gray clouds, thick as death. 

 

I imagine myself with broken wings.

How else can I explain this inability to fly?

    

I must never forget how fragile, this body,

these thoughts, how time wears out everything.

==============================================

from my unpublished manuscript: Fragmented

first published in Heliopause Magazine

©dah / dahlusion 2019 all rights reserved

Author's Note

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

"Each morning is an empty room/ another insomnia"
broken wings...an inability to fly---

alone is a bad place to be...but even worse if we are alone with ourselves...
when we are slipping on spring's ice...
not aligning with the change....facing those new seasons with a sense of loneliness.
really well done, DAH...
j.

[DAH]

Thank you, jacob!

[NotUsinganymore]

Very beautiful poem about lonliness and a broken will. c:

[DAH]

Thank you!

[gram linski]

the cyclic turn of Nature, the only constant, as we ourselves decay, the entropy of life filling the empty insomnia, some great images in this one,DAH

[DAH]

Thank you, gram!

[Fairy Khan]

Such a wonderful piece of writing.

[DAH]

Thank you!

[barleygirl]

This poem feels like it's tugging us in different opposing directions, almost as if how it might feel on the cusp of spring, but winter tugs us back into the cold & wet again. Love your unique way of painting imagery in words. Love how this turns into relatable feelings at the end (((HUGS))) Fondly, Margie

[DAH]

Thank you, barley g!

[Dave Brown]

I am beginning to appreciate that I am far from the only person that consistently wakes up in the middle of the night
as it gets lighter in the morn and more birds visit, insomnia is a bit more endurable, but over all, a major frustration

[DAH]

Thank you, Dave!

[Mark]

I've always loved the stillness in the dark hours after 2am, and before the sun is fully awake. Your words here, remind me a bit of that. Your awareness of that surest of killers, Time; resonates.

[DAH]

Thank you, Mark!

[Einstein Noodle]

we are fragile indeed ... made to degrade ;) i like how this poem leads me into delicate musings of heart, mind and spirit .. at once lifted up "each morning is an empty room" i think yes .. and i can fill it with what i will .. and then "..another insomnia" ..."...a tired rain" :) the contrast continue and at the end broken ..fragile ... and time wears everything out ... in remembering such sobering thoughts i am driven to gratitude ... fine read for me DAH
E.

[DAH]

A lovely critique. Thank you EN!

[Ted Kniffen]

I like this DAH! Much as the seasons move from winter to spring "time's current" is relentless, pulling us into the winter of our lives...stoke the fires...draw the scarf tighter...life is fragile!

I see more days like this than I care to deal with, and yet, here we are.
Welcome the changing seasons.

Ted

[DAH]

Excellent feedback, Ted, thank you!

[Lorry]

The "How else can i explain" line is worth the entrance fee alone DAH, and the iced puddles get a knowing nod too.
Reminds me of days like today, where raindrops sound angry and the sky and sun are in a huff with each other and only manage to turn everything a non reflective grey that if you checked the dulux colour wall chart, would be called urgh, or bland.
But we can be thankful for still being here to see it and read your excellent take on it. A+.

[DAH]

I'm honored by this critique. Thank you, Lorry!

[Chris]

I think you defined "mindspace" all to well...

[DAH]

Thank you, Chris!