Some days I do not just feel sorrow
Some days I am the sorrow
I am the grey sky
That threatens spitting snow
I am the heaviness in your limbs
Your shuffling gait
Reluctant to get
Where you are expected
Some days
I am the sorrow
The stark, leafless, skeletal
Branches of the trees
Dwelling in the in-between
Of not quite late autumn
Not quite early winter
That borderline of the seasons
When light is dwindling
And the darkness grows
Some days
I am the wistfulness
That longing for your younger self
When time stretched endlessly
Before you
The world full of possibility
And the crisp taste of golden fruit
Some days
I am the very ache in your chest
That you feel
When you despair of ever
Finding your soul mate
Who must be out there wandering
In this same twilight
Desperately longing
To find you
Not sure if reading this stopped my heart, or took my breath away … definitely had some kind of physical reaction … so beautiful, such evocative imagery …
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For the moment, feeling the feeling – so evocative.
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I am both sorry and grateful
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No need to be sorry. Poetry is to feel, and I didn’t get stuck in the feeling. Poe got it right (and wrote accordingly):
“If a poem hasn’t ripped apart your soul; you haven’t experienced poetry.”
🙂
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That is a brilliant quote. Thank you.
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Reblogged this on cabbagesandkings524 and commented:
Christine Ray evokes a feeling that does come some days.
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Thank you for the kind reblog
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Incredible writing … and depth of insight into stuff we all feel… at times
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Thank you Kae- the bones of the poem came to me when I was walking to the train one morning.
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Funny how that happens…
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🙂
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Wow, this is so beautiful! 🙂
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Thank you so much
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It’s my pleasure! 🙂
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This is a brilliant piece of work! The depth of it so surreal ! Good work
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Oh, so so… so good! Shaking my head and smiling here….
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Thank you so much. The phrase “I am the sorrow” got stuck in my head on my walk to the train one early Winter morning and I was so inspired I wrote this on my phone on the way to work.
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