Sound

The kitchen, the harth, the space, is unlit

Weak light, nothing stirring

She is as still, as a breathing creature, can be

Sound… is for the world, chasing beyond itself

Where girls like her, hold tight to bus rails, wind messing their hair

Where children cling to parents, shy in perpetual game

Where men stoop to kiss women, full cheeks upturned

Music and the chink of movement, gypsy motion

Color and the russle of long skirts, like painted fans

A sky as blue as country girls eyes

The haggle of time

A red river, carved by motion

She wore those days, like a red dress, loose limbed and free

Unknowing yet, bestial crush of illness

Jeering like envious stranger, swallowing thin air

She is as still as a breathing creature can be

Sound, is for the world, chasing beyond itself

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29 thoughts on “Sound

  1. The first 3 lines are so visual for me. When poetry becomes visual there is an added dimension. I could see it as a beautiful black and white photo or the silent first scene of a movie, which the rest of your poem could be adapted to! Wonderfully written. Thank you! Your ability to create a visual dimension with your poetry is a blessing and oh so rare gift!

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  2. I love that one of the tags is “courage,” as the poem distinctively points out in several spots–strength and measure. These lines:

    “A sky as blue as country girls eyes

    The haggle of time

    A red river, carved by motion

    She wore those days, like a red dress, loose limbed and free

    Unknowing yet, bestial crush of illness

    Jeering like envious stranger, swallowing thin air

    She is as still as a breathing creature can be

    Sound, is for the world, chasing beyond itself”

    Beautifully mastered, Candice.

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  3. The stillness when we’re ill is profound. Time stops, we hold our breath, afraid of movement, yet growing in strength as the rest of the world spins ’round us… That’s what your poem made me think of and experience. Maybe it’s in that stillness that we heal. Beautiful work once again, Candice. πŸ’•

    Liked by 1 person

    1. How right you are. That is EXACTLY what I was trying to convey, that awful stillness, the way time slows and it seems a day can be an eternity. But also as you say, a growing strength. Trying to be positive through the negative πŸ™‚ Thank you dear one – you are right, through the stillness there is healing.

      Liked by 1 person

  4. interesting thoughts here. Life is indeed a whirlwind of colors and sounds. Around and around us it spins never spilling the details of when it stopsll and changes the direction of the whirlwind nor the colors and soiunds from brilliance and goodness to shades of darkness and pain/sadness. πŸ™‚ ❀

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  5. Candice Louisa,
    I missed you! And vice versa?
    (Floods and hurricanes in my neighborhood these last months… omg)
    Okay, now down to it.
    (1) You wrote: “The kitchen, the harth, the space, is unlit”
    I believe you meant to write “hearth” Reminds me of a one-room log cabin, of sorts.
    (2) Next: “The haggle of time — A red river, carved by motion”
    This gives me the impression of a teenager turning 20, whose femininity is also “not stirring”
    (3) Then: ” She wore those days, like a red dress, loose limbed and free — Unknowing yet, bestial crush of illness”
    This is the center of it, the conflict, the reason the “woman” is not stirring. A long life with the capability to have children but not the ability to make this happen – because of some condition.
    (4) Finally: “Sound is for the world”
    She is not of the world any longer. This is where she dies or, if alive, feels like her life is detached.
    How incredibly sad. I hope this is not someone you know intimately. Makes me cry thinking about it.
    Just want to hug this person.
    (5) Or, it is an amazing personification of the moth in the picture. But, I choose the young woman. πŸ™‚
    Provocative! Nicely expressed.
    ❀
    Your friend,
    Larry

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Dearest Larry. I love your analysis every time. It was about me and this ongoing health saga of suffering. I am hopeful I’ll recover but it’s beating me down so it’s been hard I know I’ll see the light but sometimes it’s hard to believe after months. I’m so sorry about flood damage are you fl or tx? I hope it’s getting worked out? Good grief that must be hard. I wish you a resolution on all fronts my friend. Detatched is the word for being sick a long time, your analysis was perfect. You do my work honor.

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