Strip-lit shadows suckle at
the sorrowed edge of light,
trace in stark relief the
mark of image surely drawn,
hold to earth with visions
of the darkness which will come;
so does the day dream always
of the distant night.
Emptiness unfolds in shapes which sun does deeply cast,
Emptiness unfolds in shapes which sun does deeply cast,
that calling into meaning
and to huddled, crisping forms,
where time dips wrinkled
toes in breathing brightness lit;
and as the minutes shuffle
by, what was, can never last.
The sorrow buried in those shadows is really felt.
ReplyDeleteI feel a lot of sadness in your words. Loneliness and grief. Hang in there.
ReplyDeleteI like the play of shadows and light ~ This line stood out for me:
ReplyDeleteEmptiness unfolds in shapes which sun does deeply cast,
where time dips wrinkled toes in breathing brightness lit;
ReplyDeleteand as the minutes shuffle by, what was, can never last.
Rightly described the shortness of the life span of shadows!
Hank
Sad and lovely poem!
ReplyDelete"where time dips wrinkled toes in breathing brightness lit".. this is so beautifully haunting!
ReplyDeleteI liked this line: "so does the day dream always of the distant night"
ReplyDeleteshadows always seem haunting, I guess it depends on the light.
ReplyDeleteThe descriptions you chose are just wonderful, beginning with the first line. This wants to be published!
ReplyDelete