poem
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“The world breaks everyone, and afterward, many are strong at the broken places.” -Ernest Hemingway (Beginning: The Letting Go)I watch your shadow detach itselffrom mine—no fanfare,just the quiet severingof what I thought was permanent.Your eyes, once warm as whiskey,now reflect only absence. (Middle: The Falling)They say what goes upmust come down.But no one warns youabout…
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There’s an echo in my chest where your wings used to hum— a flutter pressed against me, bright as morning’s first yawn. It wasn’t long ago, that fullness. Now the space stretches wide, folding me small— a damp kite tangled in branches, a paper cup buckling under air. I’ve tried filling it with anything but…
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“Love has no other desire but to fulfill itself. But if you love and must needs have desires, let these be your desires: To melt and be like a running brook that sings its melody to the night. To know the pain of too much tenderness. To be wounded by your own understanding of love;…
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“The years apart folded into a single breath,and the greater homecoming—to her, to Him—lit the universe with a quiet, unending hello.” It’s been twenty-five years, give or take a shimmer,since I last saw your shadow spill across the floor,a silhouette I knew for thirty-three tender turns of the earth.I’m older now—older than you ever carved…
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“I am the master of my fate, I am the captain of my soul.”— William Ernest Henley, from “Invictus” (1875) Bathsheba, Veiled in MistI watch, unblinking,through the shadowed pane—I’m a silhouette cloaked in intent,my gaze a thread you can’t hold.Your form falters under my stare,cloth clings too tight,a confession I don’t need to hear.I feel…
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“Nature does not hurry, yet everything is accomplished.”— Lao Tzu I left behind boyhood’s warm embrace,To chase manhood’s fleeting, hurried pace,Thinking joy was locked in that new space,But found instead an empty, hollow place. Then spent my years in restless, vain pursuit,To find the boy, to lost joy impute,Believing he could make my heart refute,But…
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The day stretched long, yet held its grace,I toiled in fields, dirt beneath my nails a trace.My back groaned low, lifting burdens high,A job or two I sought beneath the sky. A younger me, with frustration rife,Spoke of bills, of girls, of a carless life.Gas too dear, the reason he was late,I heard his woe,…
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Home from a long day, I turn on Vivaldi’s Four Seasons and let my mind slip free from the shackles of routine. I drift into the music, becoming part of it, letting it steer my thoughts. It builds a world through one voice and many—instruments weaving together, tempos shifting, crescendos rising, then resting, only to…
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I live in a roomwithout a heart—not that I’m gone,but it feels that part. They used to come,“Grandma’s new place!”—a pool, a clubhouse,wide-open space.But had I knownit was a guise,to strip me bareof dignity’s prize,I’d have stayedin my home, my own,where the hallway’s wornby children grown,their racing feet,their candy smears,walls alivewith fleeting years. There, my…
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Luna, It’s Saturday, and my pen itches to spill a line or two,to bridge the quiet miles and catch you up on this snow-draped day.A foot of white has tumbled down, with six more inches whispering near,and Monday looms with threats of yet another heavy shroud. There’s a hush in freshly fallen snow, a tender…
BB Grey--musings 