Saturday, April 15, 2023

National Poetry Month Offering #8

 Wish You Were Here


This broad expanse

Of barefoot grass

I walk at dusk alone.

Pausing inside our sacred space,

I feel a sensual, spiritual trace

We left behind, before.

My sandals in hand,

Soft footfalls land

In silence resilient and calm.

Tactile memories

Reside upon the breeze,

Our love an offering,

Given, seized.

The meadow goddess smiles, appeased.

Our pleasure is hers,

The grass, the trees.


There are spaces and places that evoke such strong emotions for me. I connect things that have happened to me with locations. Haunted by sadness, sometimes fear, often love. This poem describes a memory of love that initially woke me to so many things I had forgotten and buried within myself. A love that eventually nearly broke me, nearly did me in.


No comments: