Saturday, September 27, 2014



Standing in that place of non-being,
barely remembered as who I was,
dragging dry fingers across the past,
feeling the paper thinness of time,

striving for balance, that sense of
being commensurate, trying to be
level, to compare now with what
was, and holding the scales of love,

tipping this way and then that, with
weights of memory, different in size,
and shape and form, hoping that
heart and mind will agree, that there

will form, a correspondence which
can emulate, something sane, and
firm, and real, that can consist of
what was and what is now, like

co-ordinates which will show me
the way, draw together the full
parallels so that they are level, and
square with what is needed, if peace

of mind is to be found again, if there
can be uniformity with new identity,
which will hold in measured grace
who I have become; which can

deliver, cradled in smooth, white
palms, the secret which will lead
me on to the treasure which must
exist, although hidden - equipoise.


  1. Hard to find that poise and equilibrium indeed - I like that word! A very neat, precise, smooth poem. I like it a lot!

  2. equipoise was a new word on is hard to stay in that exactly...i always seems a bit off to the right or left....but you can def come close....smiles...dont know that i have ever heard or seen something to show the way as easy as coordinates though...

  3. The balance of life seems to be like standing on a knife's edge sometimes...

  4. Hiya Roslyn, I greatly admire the relentless ambition of this piece and we are kindred spirits I think. I too share your quest for: "the secret which will lead
    me on to the treasure..." I'll be back to read more,for sure... With Best Wishes Scott

  5. Balance can be so difficult. This reads aloud beautifully!

  6. I love the flow of this.
    Balancing who we are, who we were, our memories,past and future....striving for peace of mind. I can relate to this.

  7. And truly possible is what i know now to be true..the loss of feeling can be a desert but unlike a desert the flowers can come and replace a life where the cactus once's always possible even when hope cannot be felt...

    Not sure if you are in that place but your words did take me there again..:)

    And that's it just reminds me how happy i am to no longer be a
    cactus. ;)

    1. A little Kate, but more sourced in memories when it was a lot.