There is no one
more unkind than me.
In the evening hour I see
my sandpaper skin.
In every embrace,
a delving to the bone.
I have a peeled orange
beneath my ribs
that swells, overflowing, when it rains.
I cannot go back.
Blackberry vines have overtaken the track.
I cannot strike out.
Fog has dampened the maps. They curl and come back.
Still, I lift my head to every fresh breeze
and interesting face,
mistaking the world in a mural, the sky in a frieze.
Every creeping weed believes
its home is just inches away.
So do I, and so I hope until each day dies done
and there is no one
more unkind than me.
_______
for The Sunday Muse #225.
Music: Lilliana de los Reyes & Max Quilici "Can't Find My Way Home"
Time and experience lead us to right where we are don't they? And we cannot go back, only forward and probably just right here where we sit. Again you write of life in a way that is unique to you my friend. Those last lines are amazing my friend! I can relate to the weed, or at least my heart can.
ReplyDeleteThis is plaintively beautiful Shay.
ReplyDeleteThis - "I have a peeled orange
ReplyDeletebeneath my ribs
that swells, overflowing, when it rains."
And this - "Every creeping weed believes
its home is just inches away."
Shay--As always, when you do some sort of rhyme scheme, it's never apparent (to me) the first read, because it's done so seamlessly.
ReplyDeleteSo many gems, but this was my favoritefavorite line: "So do I, and so I hope until each day dies done."
Ending where you began... a song I love (but a version I've never heard)... Beautiful as usual.
Wow. Mind-blowing. I noted especially the same lines as qbit.
ReplyDeleteEach stanza and line hold their own powerful image. Your poetry always wows.
ReplyDeleteThis holds you right there while the chill creeps down your spine. Amazing.
ReplyDeleteA poignant piece indeed.
ReplyDeleteI once read weeds have the strongest roots as they are able to survive the elements. Perhaps, there is truth in that as daisies and dandelions are weeds and yet they grow in their beauty. One step closer to a place called home.
ReplyDelete"Every creeping weed believes
its home is just inches away."
This is fascinating, Shay. Such a complex character whose words belie her vulnerability, as in these lines:
ReplyDelete"I cannot go back.
Blackberry vines have overtaken the track."
Because she wants to but knows it's too late but also swells with so much she cannot express - the intrigue! And the way it begins and ends makes you want to delve into her history. You lend the image so much mystery and depth, it's wonderful <3
"Every creeping weed believes
ReplyDeleteits home is just inches away."
One of the spectacular lines in this poem of vulnerability.