Hour eight began with me cursing my neighbor with the leaf blower as I tried to listen to the instrumental piece. Earbuds, sufficient volume later, I calmed down and
let the music pour into me, indeed, like daylight
the tenderness of light tempered by shadow
neither bearable without the other
unsure whether the long shadow indicated morning or evening
the promise of balance sure nonetheless
I glided over the ash of Lahaina
a gloaming stuttering child
a heart basket of hurt and loss
that thickened blood and shuttered eyes
and pulled me into the deepest quiet
quiet now
quieter still
Minus the first two explanatory lines (!) … this is a lovely reverie. I especially like
‘ tenderness of light tempered by shadow/neither bearable without the other…
a heart basket of hurt and loss…
quiet now/quieter still.’
It is always astonishing how the most devastating experiences that produce the deepest heart writing. Perhaps – as the light needs the shadow and vice versa – this is the point. In any case, a beautiful poem. Thank you.
Excellent poem. I was right there with you