i dream of fire and ice
Everything around me crackles with electricity.
January would be silent, except for your anger.
When the whole world is frozen,
even a white flower becomes prism.
Last night I held a piece of glass to the moon,
hoping for eclipse.
The dead of winter whispered giggles of mockery,
and I walked back inside, bruised
but never broken.
I keep reading about survival.
Already, we’ve forgotten so much.
It used to be that everything was relative,
but now, everything is virtual,
and you can’t fake the smell of narcissism.
(I meant to say narcissus.)
Our collective soul is starving,
and we feed it the new truth.
Suffering was always meant to save us,
and laughter is a sky
filled with birds.
January 8th, 2015 at 9:31 am
Fantastic poem! Love the eclipse image you created and the lines:
“I keep reading about survival.
Already, we’ve forgotten so much.”
January 8th, 2015 at 9:55 am
oh my god. i love you.
“Our collective soul is starving, and we feed it the new truth.”
🙂
January 8th, 2015 at 10:11 am
Oh my dash, Kelly…so dang well done. You’re killing me. Adding to my special Kelly journal, plus mailing it off to a couple of souls who would savor it…
January 8th, 2015 at 1:15 pm
our collective soul is starving . . . isn’t that the truth.
January 8th, 2015 at 7:08 pm
already we have forgotten so much…yes, true…
sometimes winter seems to be about survival…the cold and the shadows that come with…
January 10th, 2015 at 1:24 pm
this world insists, doesn’t it, that we observe her and speak? what a glorious final verse, too ~