Sunday, 12 August 2012

reborn




stiffened limbs
wracked with age
creak
making the grind of life
often too much to bear
the once spring of step
a long distant memory
along with
smooth skin and lost nights
of passion
blur at the edges
backed into dark recesses
the hurt of loss
painful to recount
shallow breath slows
rasping
at the dead hour before dawn
stops.

all is still and calm
as the world shifts

slightly

until
encouraged by the ripples of salt water
and the singing of the moon
the strands of being
twist with the tides
and seasons pass
immeasurable in beauty
breathing life again
breaking free from preformed bindings
grasping hold firmly
as she emerges
born again.


This is my poem for The Mag  130 over here.
the image is by Francesca Woodman.



9 comments:

  1. The complete circle of things. It is very hard not to see it all continuing. Reincarnation is the best guess for a truly just world. And we do live with the sea, either in it as swimming creatures or containing it as blood and sap, iron and magnesium. One consumes oxygen and the other carbon dioxide and each ejects the other in a cycle larger than the individuals involved.

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  2. Beautiful circle...from the dying to being reborn ~

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  3. as TEss said, beautiful. well told.

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  4. A beautiful story of rebirth... you wove those words with magic!

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  5. We are never too old ... it's never too late!!!

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  6. I enjoyed this tale of rebirth....to live again, over and over....

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  7. Wonderful rebirth. Say goodbye to the stiff limbs and grind of life!

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