October 29, 2008

Home is Where the Heart is

Cold warmth is my favourite smell,

Rough, fierce tenderness

And it's forgiving me;

Holding naked bloody flowers

it arranged like a jigsaw

For me, through me,

On the table I once touched and knew.

I opened my heart and it told me,

You told me, at home I will always find

Flowers and faces, forgiveness

In my favourite rooms.

But I loosened my ties and I fled.

I have broken a perpetual sky,

Depth shattering the eyes of God.

Still standing, its hands now follow a luck-strewn pavement,

Bending amiable street lights into spiders' legs

That throw bright silk at the shadows, at the walls

My shadows, my walls, cupping my house.

And this smacks of life, so it said

If this is where you want to be,

Come outside.

But I can't when walls and windows

Are locked as my winter throat.

Though powerless, I smile and know,

No need to look inside to see

That this is where I want to be.

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  • Aww, thank you. :) That's so lovely. I feel all warm and fuzzy inside now. Eeeeee. by on this entry
  • I absolutely love your poem but I have had a glass and a half of wine (one large, one small!) which … by Sue on this entry
  • standing ovation That was very, very, good. Remind me to steal you talent when next we meet. ;) by on this entry
  • i love the way you write! i really do – it's just so like .. i dunno .. free and descriptive! keep u… by Stephen Gates on this entry
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