healing and wheeling through days of quiet and darkness
is a lonely shadow.
when silence strikes and space
opens her cold arms to embrace
the child,
the silent baby,
in stark light and cool
comfort.
an unseen dance,
slow, intent, throbbing;
in the kitchen at midnight
hidden
behind drawn
shades.
broken and wanting completion despite
the knowing that it’s broken.
is reconstruction yearning?
gravity seeks the source of her own
wholeness
and the heaviness of silent days
tips an imaginative scale,
there is not a weight great enough to balance
the force of growth
that pushes down into the cold months of quiet lengthening.
dreams aside,
the occlusion between
here and there
is a gulf of shadow rhythm
scratching
on the front door.
and I am dancing a slow,
slow dance,
alone
in silence.
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Assistant Editor: Brenna Fischer/Editor: Bryonie Wise
Photo: Flickr
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