Writing With Weeping Words
I sit at the table looking out the kitchen window
drinking the autumn warm golden shades
of red, brown, and orange leaves descending and walking through my yard.
My mind swims with thoughts of seventy autumns,
yearning to purge into words that storm within me.
This old encrusted frame kidnapped the child I once was,
in tears this heart thoughts flow reflecting on the past.
Unconsciously holding my breath,
my wizened hands shake slightly while I write.
Like the ocean at the mercy of the wind
sweeping away by the demands of everyday life,
I write pages and pages of weeping words.
Waves rush in and around, losing myself
in a wakeful dream as I hear the distant chants.
Love and be loved
a rhythm of my soul too still the storm within me.
With hope of once more, to be young in the embrace of my love,
for now I open the door of my heart and let him continue his journey.
10/5/2017
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