(after Jenny Bornholdt)
Your death
Invades
Like the mist
Silent moving
Through me
Gathering the bones
Of my intention.
Spreading
Like a blessing
Embracing every fingernail
Every failing part.
Breath by breath
A way in the darkness.
You
The ever-living ghost
Absorbed the bruise
Of my past
An elongated contusion
MovingLike a shield.
*I am sure in my creative licence I have mixed up my theology, but, oh well, I'm learning!
When Your Kids Deconstruct
4 years ago
3 comments:
Woah, baby!!! This is excellent! I see you indulge yourself in Mr Rilke here too. Nice :)
*blush* Thank you so much for your kind words. Yeah, definitely indulge myself in Rilke's stuff, sometimes makes me feel like there's no point trying to write my own as he's said all I want to and so eloquently, but must keep pushing through - he isn't me after all, my voice can be heard too.
Ahh, yes, ye olde "Everything's already been said 40 million times before, what is the point?" I try not to read Ecclesiastes when I'm feeling like that, hah!
But you're write. You can't write Rilke, you can just write Fiona. Still, such an act of courage :)
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