It was not until he said to search
That she did, without the labor
Of doubting what he’d said
Thinking that the coldness
In the rooms was expected
Of the servitude of her marriage
That the unwashed dish bore
Testament, the folded shirt
A shameful story forever told.
In a sudden breath, after
The punch of daily worry
Was swept into the blast
She stood on the remainder
Of life’s edge, outstretched
In the flooding warmth her feet
Barely touching earth
Heart barely touching.
Ooh, nice to see a poem here! Such a lovely way to start the morning :)
ReplyDeletesigh - that's lovely
ReplyDeleteThank you, my sweethearts! I wrote it for my love, of course, but I hope it resonates in all who feel oppressed in their lives and, then, suddenly feel the cage door flung wide.
ReplyDelete