Hail
My hands know the sadness of rock,
of unfinished lines and rough
sides tapering to sharpness.
The shape of solitude, turning.
Now the stones fall as water,
a woman lets down her hair
and laughter chokes through silence.
Into this dream I ascend.
“Hail” first appeared here in September 2016, and is included in Indra’s Net: An International Anthology of Poetry in Aid of The Book Bus.
All profits from this anthology published by Bennison Books will go to The Book Bus, a charity which aims to improve child literacy rates in Africa, Asia and South America by providing children with books and the inspiration to read them.
Available at Amazon (UK) and Amazon (US)
O at the Edges 
Observing and “seeing”…..?
LikeLiked by 2 people
Much like listening and hearing.
LikeLike
Exactly
LikeLiked by 2 people
Love this one Robert.
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks very much, V.J.
LikeLiked by 1 person
My pleasure.
LikeLiked by 2 people
What a marvelous poem. I’m surprised that I’ve managed to miss it ’till now. Keep on, sir
gray
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thanks so much. I’m glad you found it!
LikeLike
I thought to feature you, a favorite poet here/ All eyes will travel here
https://namelessneed3.wordpress.com/
LikeLiked by 2 people
Thank you!
LikeLike
I think that you are one of the finest poets online & I’ve enjoyed yr work for some time.
No, Thank you !
LikeLiked by 2 people
You are very generous!
LikeLike
Pingback: “Hail” — O at the Edges | Honestly, I'm a Liar, & Other Balances & Imbalances