At The Gates Of St. Dymphna's

What is this air

And what vagary

Keeps your voice from reaching my ear?

What are these hands

Which cannot carry

My love from heart to skin, my dear?

What is this sun

Lobbed across the sky

Indifferent to crow and linnet?

What is this day

Gone greyly by

Hushed and mad without you in it?


photograph by Jeremy Barnard


Maria said…
Supreme, the sweetest, I love
you, you have written.
Fireblossom said…
Thank you, Maria. Saint Dymphna is the patron of the mad. And the photograph is a view from one of the windows of Danvers Lunatic Asylum, since burned down. My sly little way to tell my gf, "I'm going crazy without you." ;-)
Beatrice V said…
I love this, so gentle yet deeply plaintive.
Anonymous said…
Deeply painful, bitter and sweet.

I walked through your madness and sorrow without invitation and I walked through mine -again!- at the same time.

A pleasure to read you!
Fireblossom said…
Thank you, Woodcrafter and GEA. I had a lot of trouble getting this to work properly, with the rhyme and all, but in the end I think it came out well. Your comments are appreciated!
writerwoman said…
That last line makes the poem for me. Its a stand out.
Fireblossom said…
Thanks, WW. It's always nice to see you here. And yes, I pretty much wrote the rest of the poem "on top of" the last line.
Scarlet said…
It's amazing...the places where love will take us, especially when we're missing that one person that makes it all happen.

I love the depth of this poem. I'm IN love with it, actually.