Thursday, December 26, 2013

Moths




The moths came just before Christmas: 
dust-crumbling parchment specks
blowing in through opened doors 
glowing on the television screen
flecks of life against the dark and light. 
Then the storm took them.

I carry your sadness through this time
in the cupped hands of my thoughts,
in spite of knowing that I can't
release it, whole, uncrushed, into the night,
or take even a moth's wing's weight of it away
from you.

14 comments:

zephyr said...

Oh...
so very lovely, Lucy.

i'm very glad you got power back ...
and found marigolds in your unmown meadow!!

xoxo

The Crow said...

The most beautiful expression of empathetic sorrowfulness I've ever read, Lucy.

This is the kind of beautiful thing that carries with it a heart-pain - it is a good thing, a very human communal thing. I'm not finding the right words. Thank you for sharing this, Lucy.

polish chick said...

beautiful.

marja-leena said...


Beautiful and heart-rending.... seconding The Crow.

Joe Hyam said...

Photograph and poem are deeeply touching and utterly beautiful.

Isabelle said...

Very lovely.

As is the video by Colin and.. Li Yi? And the cat pictures! Happy Christmas time.

Ellena said...

I am so touched by what I am reading here, Lucy, that I can't find appropriate words to say more.
Something beautiful happened to you. Will we ever know how far it travels and who is chosen to receive it - the generous fragrance of a last breath.

Lucy said...

Thanks dears.

I was reluctant to dedicate it, but, y'know.

Jean said...

so lovely

Sheila said...

That is beautiful indeed.

Franklin Bruce Taylor said...

Exquisite!

Dick said...

This does exactly what poetry is meant to do, Lucy. The metaphor is perfect and the treatment beautiful.

marly youmans said...

Good closure to the year--and may next one be a glad one, Lucy!

Lucy said...

Thanks again.

The poem is for a very dear friend indeed who has just lately lost his dear life partner.