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I pictured your face into the sand
My fingers got hot
The Sun was above
And nothing but the horizon ahead
I made a drawing
And you watched me resting there for a while
With beryl grass up on white dunes
And the wind around my dreams
The face was yours I knew
I felt
I breathed in
Salt -
Was it my tears?
Were they yours?
I breathed out
Clouds -
Chasing each other they laughed and laughed
I fell and had to wash my face
My hands were so full of sand
I kept patting, scrubbing them until they hurt
And the sand stayed
I comb my hair in the evening
To meet someone else's gaze in the Moon
We touch and it feels right
But my hands
My hands encounter sand again
I think about the drawing I made
How my hands worked
Over the dream once I had
And nothing but the wind remembers the sand
Between my fingers
For there is sand
Between my fingers
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21 megjegyzés:
nice poem
My favorite of yours to date!
Excellent. Such amazing imagery. And the struggle is palpable.
I love this one. I think this one, and the one with the four elements are my favorites. This one is more emotional though.
Emperor Ropi,
thank you.
Jason,
wow, I feel humbled. The idea kept working itself within my brain for a few days...I was just unable to brush the vision aside. This is a struggle indeed. Sometimes it's clearly there, sometimes it's 'sleeping'. But one has to face it.
Church Lady,
I'm glad you liked it, too.
There are emotions in that poem you mean as well, but these here are more personal.
The recurring image of the sand is really haunting. Sand gets everywhere and scratches, as well as representing all that has turned to sand
It IS about haunting, Crafty Green Poet. I'm glad it comes through.
Excellent poem. I loved how you ended it. I loved the line "and nothing but the wind remembers the sand between my fingers." REally excellent. I could almost feel the sensation myself.
I enjoyed this one. There are so many possible interpretations. I don't know whether to feel sad or bittersweet, angry or even happy. But the universality of sand getting into our pores and the difficulty of washing it off makes it a poem that I can feel.
Ello,
I intended it to become a lyrics for some song, but I can't write music :(
I'm so happy people like what I write!
Aine,
Thank you.
Your 'strange' words felt nice at first and were getting more and more important to me. Because they have begun changing the way I look at the situation that triggered writing the poem in the first place.
I am thankful for that for you.
I'm curious-- which of my words were "strange"? Was it the list of emotions?
I'm glad I sparked a change in thinking for you. That is what is so wonderful about talking to people-- we learn new ways of seeing/understanding things from each other.
I can imagine many different scenarios that this poem could be about: a woman remembering a dead lover, an ex-lover, an affair, or even just the "ideal partner" that she dreamed of as a young girl. And the struggle to accept the lover/partner she is with now. It could be about none of these, but that's what I saw.
Aine,
it was not any particular word of yours. For me it was a bit shocking, and a pleasant shock it truly was!!, that there are so many emotions a single poem can convey. Also, your words suggested to me that a single situation can be viewed from different angles and our perception can be totally different, too.
Sometime earlier, talking about something (I can't remember) Jason referred to something as a 'blessing dressed as a curse'. Your words recalled that feeling within me.
This poem was concieved in sadness about a(n)....hmmm...potential exlover, let me put it this way....and the struggle is about not being able to forget that person, when everything seems all right with the present one.
Your words put a different light on the situation - perhaps I shall not be struggling to brush away the haunting memories of him. Perhaps I should better be happy about having a fine relationship in the present.
But I still do have a strong recall of memories of a forgtotten love, which makes me a faithful lover - and faithfulness and endurance are both to be proud of.
I hope I was clear...?
So, instead of frantically trying to brush away the remaining particles of sand, I perhaps might cherish them as proof of my devotion.
I feel I've already told the world more than I should have. *blushes*
When will I ever grow up?
Yes, you were clear. I sometimes need to remind myself to count my blessings, focus on the present, and find the positive in everything, too. It is the best way I know to be happy. My goal is to think this way all the time (without needing to consciously remind myself). I think this is what "enlightenment" is. And, it frees us from introspection that distracts us from expressing/giving love to those around us.
I'm not a poetry person, as you know, but I really really liked this one!
Aine,
thank you for a great definition of enlightenment. I liked it. I, too, from time to time, need to remind myself to re-gain my positive attitude.
Beth,
wow. Thanks!
Very beautiful, Szelsofa, every image conveys so much of this sadness, this haunting, this sweet struggle...
'the wind around my dreams'
Oh, I have to sigh...
Thank you, Vesper!
I kept sighing too, while the image kept disturbing me before writing this.
I love the poem and as you know the subject :)
Thank you, Myladysa for your interesting comment.
"And nothing but the wind remembers the sand"
How beautiful, how sad, how striking.
Thank you, Anniina.
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