Wednesday, October 10, 2012

(Rill)


To say it’s all, your words become a song
a rill that runs through dappled ground and trees
I twist it, warp it darkly, turn it bleak:
mistakes fall broken, hopeless, choked despair.

Blood amber, slow and hopeful, conjures beads
of patience orchestrated; weeping pines
hold conference, deep séance through the fell
harsh winter of this dance through shattered spring.

Rachel Westfall
October 10, 2012  

6 comments:

jozien said...

sigh... that is beautiful Rachel
words for it escape me

christopher said...

Complexities

You are in free fall
and I hold reaching beyond
the edge, the knife edge
between us. It cuts
across my shaking pale wrist
and draws out red beads.

For me I must say
I have not much left to give.

You are like the rill
that dampens my feet
and flows on to join rivers
of sweetness and pain.

Rachel Westfall said...

Jozien, it is good to hear from you! And Christopher, you have outdone yourself, my dear poet friend.

Rachel Westfall said...

Jozien, it is good to hear from you! And Christopher, you have outdone yourself, my dear poet friend.

Scott Ennis said...

Shared this one with my wife. We were both blown away! Keep sharing, please!

Werewolf said...

Happy Healthy New Year :)))

I see you ;)XOXO