you flow
so very far
past the horizon
and the ache of distance
draws the wires of us apart
i stand here in this emptiness
feeling the last breath of this night
pass through me
and turning to return inside
i breathe out the space we contain
to the scattered and far-flung places
we call home
There is an openess to your poems, that is really beautiful. I love how they expand your mind. Lovely.
ReplyDeleteThere is grief, at times, to go inside and close the door, to feel that distance. Yet we carry it here, inside.
ReplyDeleteCan home be scattered? Regardless of "can", it is, isn't it?
ReplyDeletehey john - i think "home" as an idea isn't entirely contained in a house. there are little places, some real, some imagined, there are memories that hover and there's more even than that brief list that i think of as "home". steven
ReplyDeletelizzie thankyou for this very generous comment!!! i love sharing what's going on in my experiencing of this place. steven
ReplyDeleteruth - it's entirely a public containment, yes. steven
ReplyDeleteScattered and far-flung indeed. Also deep within the home of the heart which can be scattered, if you're me, that is.
ReplyDeleteHappy morning, Steven.
ahhh reya you completed my thought without my knowing that was what was wanting to be said here!!!! thankyou. steven
ReplyDeleteFinishing up my vacation by noting I've read you every day, but sped past commenting. Beautiful words, as always!
ReplyDeletehope - i place no expectations on my readers to leave a comment - of course i'm always delighted when they do! so thankyou for this . . . . steven
ReplyDelete