Thursday, December 25, 2014


- it can even seem intentional:
one's hair turns grey, and thin,
to match the texture
of loosened skin -

a heart's fullness is compressed;
our lives distilled
might take less space -
like gems, may give more light.

one day we hear that a poet waits 
on the Pacific coast to die;
beyond the eastern ocean
now a new girl-child lives -

friends will speak of angels and arms,
the embracing deity
of their faiths. All tapped out
electronically - it's social media -

and the only way I know
is to be, and to reflect,
in mine and another's place
in time becoming space

©2014 Ravenna Taylor


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