A blank mind:
Cold and opaque, like the
Impenetrable white of a
Morning's frosted window
Viewed from a distance;
Intricate and fragile patterns
We know are there are
Invisible as we wait instead
For fingers to write crudely
In indelicate words and
Draw the clumsiest shapes.
Then, at night, after the talking
In boardrooms and classrooms,
In meetings and briefings,
We - or some of us - fear
This wordlessness will last;
Our stories won't be told
And our feelings will be
Frozen, too, unexpressed,
Denied the nuance and
Deft articulation that
Make others smile with
Relieved surprise that we,
In the lonely experience of
Our sorrow, can achieve
Communion in mere words.
YOU ARE READING
Fragments And Reflections
PoetryPoems looking at everything and anything not in my other collections. Here you'll find life and time, wild oceans and lonely coast paths, busy streets and empty hotel rooms, wild concerts and late night writing. All just fragments and reflections, l...
