chestnut curls drift
in lazy whorls
strangely
slowly
to the floor
time itself
reluctant
to touch her
but hair will grow
again not knowing
how relentless
is this blade
clothes torn
hair shorn
nothing left
to cut
reluctant fingers
relax their hold
cold clunk
of steel on counter
ashes
she turns
from the mirror
seeing nothing
hearing nothing
feeling blessed nothing
near the surface in this moment
but the urgency of ashes
there must be
something here
to burn
~jws
reworked from 2006 version
Linking up to dVerse ~ Poet's Pub Open Link night.
8 comments:
Inspirational!
Exceptional. I only wish you posted more often.
ugh the pain of loss is so real in your words...the tearing of clothes and hair, the angst...nice...real...
Very well done, can feel the loss throughout your verse.
this made my stomach hurt because the pain just screamed from the page..great job in capturing the angst..
such depth of heart beats in each line....love your visual talent! You too..have a new follower!
The most effective part of this poem is the "ashes" litany, which acts as a refrain and drives the story to its suggestive, inflammatory, conclusion.
I am not surprised you are branching out into other forms of writing. Many end up doing it. I don't know how many go from writing novels to poetry but I know many switch from poetry to other things while still working on poems.
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