Out of time (2)


I’ll save you a place

On those days

Where waking it takes all

To muster gratitude

Yet we do

You and l

Find the fox path through thicket and dence bramble

Where light footed children before us ran

Soft in tow, elongated against shadow

Spilling their amusement like hay seeds

And stubborn burr, clinging to wool coat

Just in case it should grow cold

Then from our tree house

We’d forage for kindling

And brighten the alcoves of elm and foxglove

Just like when you were gone

Sealed in a room like you’d boarded a ship and steamed

Through hectered expanse, combed wild with distance

So far I could no longer hear your metronome

When windows flung like outstretched hands, you played Eric Satie

Able to conjur emotion without perfumed love letter

When all I had was a supple back and trained muscles

Dry with chalk, head bowed, waiting to mount and vault

Gymnast or star catcher, seems likely both

Such peacefulness in throwing out fears

With a twist of wrist, a spring and leap

When you do not hold back, that’s when you see

This world’s underpinning like a great silk train

All the seasons following in ivy headdress

Who knows the mood, a temperature of pick pockets

Punished or saved, sometimes hard to tell

We are like an indigo building storm

When weather is calm you can never tell

Invisibly, out of sight, burgeoning swell

Blowing cracked cheeks, gathering momento

If you keen into white noise, leapfrogging over din

Whispers on wind, gentle turns to fierce

We are so like our Creator, twisting at whim

Or by design

Either has the thickness of a stranger’s hide

Not our timid hearts, cowering at first lighting strike

Out of time, urging forward despite ourselves

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26 thoughts on “Out of time (2)

  1. Amazing images, one after another, Candice. They all come together for me in the line “….This world’s underpinning like a great silk train…” All of it amazing!
    Hope you’re continuing to feel better. πŸ’•πŸ’ž

  2. Wonderful how you can’t hear the metronome but instead Erik Satie, music with no strong beat but wide open expanse. The distance is felt with this contrast. So much craft to the whole poem, really.

  3. “Survival writing”.

    “Who knows the mood, a temperature of pick pockets

    Punished or saved, sometimes hard to tell

    We are like an indigo building storm

    When weather is calm you can never tell

    Invisibly, out of sight, burgeoning swell

    Blowing cracked cheeks, gathering momento

    If you keen into white noise, leapfrogging over din

    Whispers on wind, gentle turns to fierce

    We are so like our Creator, twisting at whim

    Or by design”

    At its best. I pray that you’re feeling much better and gaining more strength.

  4. This stopped me from everything else in the first few lines. And Eric Satie, I remember playing him over an over during times of great depth and sadness. this is a beautiful poem.

  5. Always the mistress of such wonderful images that capture my heart and portray they world as I know my heart sees it. This is why you and I are similar souls and I and so happy for it. ❀

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