The Breaking of Maps The Sunday Whirl #253

There is a split.
Her fingers covering serenity,
preserving until summer light is darkness.
 
There is restraint in casual movement
when inheriting these conditions in clarity;
a vestige of sacraments and an embrace of hardship.
 
She holds the keys to life’s presence
where the dead swallows had once captured amazement,
her first mutism on marine dawn’s withered face.
 
The wind continuous and ascending
shall miss fleeing hysteria with the sand
writing her eyes inward.

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5 responses to “The Breaking of Maps The Sunday Whirl #253

  1. Such a clever poem – so very good to read your work again Pamela – it is hard to pick a favourite image..there is sense of her struggling against a flow..of suppressing certain things which feels as painful as sand in the eye

  2. A wonderful piece…thanks so much.

  3. So much love for this:
    “The wind continuous and ascending
    shall miss fleeing hysteria with the sand”

  4. This has a dream-like quality to it. A sense of reaching and of hope,

    Elizabeth
    https://soulsmusic.wordpress.com/2016/06/04/rear-view-mirror/

  5. There is restraint in casual movement
    when inheriting these conditions in clarity;

    One can feel the care and gallant efforts taken in reviewing decisions by others to ensure clarity of purpose. Wonderful take Pamelita!

    Hank

I appreciate all comments.

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