A single shadow falls
from my feet into the forest
The wind has wet weather
in its mouth
Words splinter, running away
and I chase as fast as a thought
As fast as a hand might grasp another
touch and examine- lines, scars, patterns
Whose hand then?
Writhing in my palm
Fingers washing a story onto my skin
So now I prepare to decide
What has this year produced
What notions remain
Were the moments as rich as the story
Will my bruises and cuts heal
Another feast that strikes the year in questions
Each finger a different place to follow
A valley, a curve, an edge, a health mark in every nail
All you need is glove.
Roger 30/7/09
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3 comments:
wonderful start to Lughnasadh...thanks Roger. Particularly like the way it hints at the approaching end of the Celtic year....and of course anything about hands is facinating!
sally x
ah yes the glove and the hand to hold! I love the questioning and "edge".
Hi Roger,
I love this, it's thought-provoking (particularly the 'now I prepare to decide/What has this year produced/What notions remain, Were the moments as rich as the story) ... and I love the running metaphors of the hands (as it were) - fabulous last line, love this sudden change of mood to the humorous, but still with reflection in it.
My mostest favourite lines are - all of the lines I've mentioned above, and 'the wind has wet weather in its mouth', and 'fingers washing a story onto my skin', the last line :-)
Fi
xx
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