Poetry: Clumsy

CLUMSY

Soulful word threads,
pale as silk,
waiting to be pulled
through the eye of
my heart. That's what I
offer on any given day:
raw-edged thoughts,
joy-white or rubble-gray,
darning the holes
in this clumsy body
that wishes it were
measured by its soul.

The November moon
glows hard-rimmed
and sharp, cratered
with flaws. I write
about it softly, and my
talents seem small. I see
the moon's breath, its
joy, its flushed tears
and tortures. I witness
its sacred confessions
to an audience
of keen stars.

Soon, December's soft
cloth will rub all the
colors away. I will notice
the bare branches
reaching and knotting,
just like my earthly hands.
And that sharp moon?
It has since collapsed
to a crescent, its
light folded inside,
hidden and protected
like my own.

©Sherri Brannon 2013

Writing poetry fulfills me deeply - it gives me value and purpose. I'm at my best when I can sit quietly, writing and creating. It's an internal, soulful calling that brings me comfort in this external, ego-driven world. Poetry shows how soft we are, in a world that's so hard...it's my search for inner peace. I wish more people were drawn to this beautiful form of expression.

The photo was taken in my back yard - I used RadLab to enhance the purple tones and make the image more dramatic. I'm linking up with Poetry Pantry today - thank you for stopping by!

Ego says,
Once everything falls into place, I’ll feel peace.
Spirit says,
Find your peace, and then everything will fall into place. ~Marianne Williamson