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white

thrown through pink
and orange
to gold
a cascade
a fold
of physics
and water
and time and
the light says LOOK
and I’m trying but
you’re gone

I look

but, you’re gone
and I wish I were a musician
a magician
a song
whole and quartered
eighthed
and bound
to signatures of time
back-up dancers in a line
I wish I were
empty plastic cartons
and tubes and trays of paint
canvas, knives, crayons
a swoosh, a dab, a feint
buttons, glitter, glue
string and paste
and pawns

from an old and broken chess set

I wish I were a row of
jam jars full of water and
brushes waiting to get clean
I wish I were blended swirls of colour
bright and dark and seen

but I’m not

I’m just a tiny jagged rock
scratched against a wall
a fingernail cracked raw
a rotted tree in fall
I’m hopscotch drawn in dirt
a cigarette that’s burnt
I’m the fragile of a robin’s egg
and the brittle rot of steel
I’m a heart come to heel
on the ground by your feet
lead that won’t sharpen

I’m mud
and hail
and sleet

and you’re still gone
and that’s the way it is
– wishes wasted –
every flavour tasted
just one clean sock
and a greyscale dream
of a crisp, steep dawn

8 Comments

  1. Wendy

    Have to admit, I don’t read poetry for fun, but I enjoyed this. And knowing a little bit about you, I can imagine a time or two when this would have come from a deep place.
    I liked your references to music and art, both pieces of your creativity.
    Thank you for putting this out there. I think many people will be able to relate to what you were feeling when you wrote this.

    • sulya

      Thank you for taking the time to share this, Wendy… Yeah… This piece came from a lot of different places and, yes, you have been generous with your ears and heart and listened to some of those stories. I am grateful <3

      It's interesting, because I don't tend to read poetry for fun either... I have been knocked on my ass by poems and lyrics over the years - make no mistake - but I don't tend to say to myself "I wanna read poetry right now." Nor do I usually think "I'm going to sit down and write a poem." Poetry just sort of happens to me... And It usually wrings me out... There is definitely catharsis in setting pieces free like this and I am glad you found some connection to it. XO

    • sulya

      Hello Audrey!! I am so grateful that you took the time to read and share. Honestly “Sad but Enlightened” could be on my tombstone perhaps? Or the name of a late-life memoir 🙂 It made my heart happy to see your name here. I hope you and yours are keeping well xoxox

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