With my kindred,
I entered the church,
my forehead blessed
with a circle of ash.
ashes to ashes,
dust to dust
I've been told a woman
is made from the elm tree,
a man from the ash.
A horse
is only as free
as his guardian
allows him to be.
We live in a world of fences
and walls. Perhaps
this is the source
of all rage.
I took a trip
on my keyboard
to a place where
hundreds of shorebirds
lift together, as one,
into the sky,
then vanish.
My kindred now are scattered,
like hungry ghosts,
who have the knack
of visiting me
in dreams.
I wake up, dizzy,
and full of tears.
This is where Shay's Word List took me this morning. Strange.
This gave me the feels for sure, Sherry. Wonderful.
ReplyDeleteReally great stanzas, Sherry. This one definitely speaks truth:
ReplyDelete"We live in a world of fences
and walls. Perhaps
this is the source
of all rage."
Oh my! This certainly stirs my spirit it feels like a sacred place. There is wisdom with the horse, fence and walls. The shorebirds have the ability to fly and that is a gift. We humans are confined to the earth and the caretakers who hold us from our truest place of peace.
ReplyDeleteI love the dream like movement in the way this reads - like a susurration of birds...I am sorry that it ends in sadness but glad you have the world of words to escape in
ReplyDeleteJust beautifully written, Sherry. We live in a world of fences and wall..put up by a few to cage the many... :(
ReplyDeleteLovely, Sherry. I love that image of the shorebirds lifting together as one into the sky and vanishing~
ReplyDeleteLove the source of our rage
ReplyDeleteI don't know if we could understand or feel rage, if we didn't love deeply. This poem is beautiful. I really feel it this morning.
ReplyDeleteYou paint a canvas of sad truths and painful loss here, Sherry. So many things turned to ash we thought could not be burned, yet they seem gone.
ReplyDeleteI love how you took the word "kindred" and flew with it, as it were, into an examination of what ties us to this world and what finally centers our desires, our kindred, though they may be gone. Just an amazing poem, Sherry. The imagery swerves us this way and that as your thoughts go, and make us go with you.
ReplyDelete"My kindred now are scattered,
ReplyDeletelike hungry ghost" - beautiful!