In your left hand, furrowed
lines from your past, little
more than some pattern
your mind cultivated
while dry details were turned
asunder, words buried
like jagged rocks in loam.
Still emotions grew
beneath networks of memory without
even one word. Anger is anger
in any language. Love is power
that leaves scintillating trails in tangible
air and airless moments alike. False
prophets have read books on the self
help aisle, offer you a past and future
crystal clear but you know history
is not insight. Your fingers slowly close
against the crumpled lines.
How subtle this tracery like moonlight lace
over mountain pines that will be broken by fearful storms
or quarrelsome voices half heard through heavy doors
where the wise child treads lightly by.
As fading lines of an ancient book whose words
cannot be read anymore yet the heart
remembers every broken glyph. Will you ask
another where the lifeline runs?
In your hand, naturally, but still
never in hand nor along the specious
creases the palmists read. That soft and surface
line is only an empty wrinkle in your time.
You’ve always known these things
where you carry home in your heart
letting memory and love spill out with grace
of your touch like baptism. The link
keeping all those you’ve loved ever present
in your life and now in mine.
2 comments:
it may seem like a silly question but why the left hand? Perhaps I am being overly critical and there
is a significance to this left hand. Other then that I think it flows well and the cadence is soft, mellow and calming. The only part i didn't like was in the second stanza the part about anger is anger in any language why not anger in any language is anger just to break it up a bit.
Another thing is: 'False
prophets have read books on the self help aisle,' So the false prophets are reading self help books and then this is then translated into information of ones future. Like friends trying to help and offering advice that they really have no clue about. something like that?
Other than those few things mentioned I have no difficulty with it. I couldn't find the original to compare with so I just had to go with what i saw. Thanks for the enjoyable read ;)
Hey PB
I really like this. I also got a little hung up on the second stanza, but from the part right after “anger is anger”
Love is power
that leaves scintillating trails in tangible
air and airless moments alike. False
prophets have read books on the self
help aisle, offer you a past and future
I think I just got a little tongue tied here… may just be me.
I do have to say that I would rank this with some of your best work. The whole piece reminds me of one long sigh. Very nice.
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