Cantilever
1
Night skitters over the mounds,
avoiding the blue flowers
She bears the horizon’s gold.
2
No one stands alone.
Our sky is of earth, dark
soil packed with the living.
3
I do not seek mercy.
The cliff frog chirps its song
and the fog closes in.
4
Suspended, hope
wraps around her,
one foot on the ground.
Far from merciful is the grace of resilience. It is a grace, nonetheless.
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It is! And so easy to NOT recognize.
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‘like’ is not strong enough for this – love it – so many images
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Thank you, Maureen. In this one, I hoped the images would speak.
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and they absolutely did
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That was truly gorgeous.
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Thanks very much, Mel.
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Bob, could explain on the structure of this piece, please?
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Not much theory or thought behind the form – I challenged myself to “tell a story” in four stanzas of three lines apiece. This was basically an exercise to avoid writing the same thing over and over.
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What about the numbering?
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To me, numbering generally signifies a pause or break longer than what might be acknowledged by spacing. It also may indicate a shift in focus or perhaps point of view or voice.
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Alright. Thank you, Bob.
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You’re welcome, Sudhanshu.
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