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Cat Wood Poem
Covered thinly, by a bloody clot.
Unhealed.
Congealed.
Unwelcome obligations to eat, sleep, dress
fulfilled.
That your body is still here
is the best that can be said
of this,
the first year.
Copyright © Cat Wood | Year Posted 2019
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Details |
Cat Wood Poem
Hang your heads in shame
and sorrow
you Snowdrops,
gorging on the frozen sun.
He is dead.
And tomorrow
turns a lesser world,
its iron heart
oblivious to your mis-timed gaiety.
Waving about,
white traitors,
your joy is only surrender to a moment of light
in a dark place
Copyright © Cat Wood | Year Posted 2019
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Details |
Cat Wood Poem
An anchor cut, but you’re not adrift.
A root is severed; but see? You’re not felled.
The box closed, so you are the new keeper of things past.
Take them out often
Hold them up to the light
and polish them.
Feel the edges and limits of things
and not just the big, fat middle
because they are the bits which keep the whole intact.
When the loss is no longer an uninvited crow
but a curled cat
there will be a quiet joy in their naming,
touching, and placing carefully back.
Copyright © Cat Wood | Year Posted 2019
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