bliggity blog

Sunday, 12 January 2014

12 january

sweeping the threshold




 pools of litter

illuminated in the morning light

piled at her feet

 lifeless now but

 she was haunted by the scenes that lay in those piles

dust to dust is the price one pays

for the impact

of what we leave in our wake

powdery flakes her grandmother had walked through long ago

microscopic bits of crayons the children had colored with

when their hands were still tiny

dirt from the garden her mother had tracked in

that day in October when they had planted all the tulips

sand from the beach they had all swept in circles...

in and out like the tide



 one she had laid with

on this wooden floor

under the light of the moon that night

 fragments they had created with their storm

still sparkled in some remote crevice

of this threshold that she swept now






19 comments:

  1. nice...i like the indirect approach you take in this...the littler/broken things give us a glimpse of the fierceness of their union though only for a moment its affects echo out....

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  2. I like the suggestion that we never really get rid of anything (or it never really gets rid of us). I've often imagined that I am breathing the very same air that Abraham Lincoln once breathed, or that I'm seeing the same stars that Marie Antoinette once saw. There are always bits and pieces of the past in the present. Thank you for this powerful reminder.

    A Singular Whirl

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  3. Wonderfully done...it's funny as a little girl I loved to sweep, and now when I sweep I will see some of the things you have told me. I see that fragments of our lives are all there on the floor, tiny bits and pieces.

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  4. I like the flashing of memories when these things are laid before your eyes to be swept away ~ A pensive write ~ Thanks for linking up with Real Toads ~ Happy Sunday ~

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  5. Sometimes we just need to sweep away all debris of broken memories and start anew. You brought out the pain of doing such a thing very well.

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  6. fragments they had created with their storm - I love this, such tenderness and love, the gentle touch is grace. Very nice

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  7. What a fine sweep of emotions and words..long may something's glow as they have passed..maybe they stay inside us

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  8. You weave all the prompts together so well!
    dust to dust is the price one pays
    for the impact
    of what we leave in our wake - these lines stood out to me.

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  9. I like the way you interpreted all the flakes of colour, made up of elements of one's life.

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  10. the price one pays
    for the impact
    of what we leave in our wake

    I love those lines especially.....and the idea that all that has been is still here, somehow......

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  11. Places do hold the energy of what has happened in them. Lovely poem from start to finish.

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  12. Nice, nice write--really lovely--the images, the feel of it!

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  13. This is delightful. Memories are in every crevice and the dust particles themselves. The threshold itself seeing all the comings and goings and holding on to the past like us.

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  14. Very beautiful and touching work - artfully done, enjoyed the sensitivity and delicately lingering emotion in this... With Best Wishes Scott www.scotthastie.com

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  15. Life moves on and on the way we sometimes gather dust and sometimes leave things behind. Lovely write.

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  16. well placed words......... .....

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  17. the impact of life reflected in our memories.... a beautiful poem/story... the picture is perfect as a backdrop too.... ms pie

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  18. Really nice. I especially like Annell’s summary – it’s all there on the floor – it may look like there’s nothing there after we’ve swept or vacuumed, but truly, that is impossible, as you’ve expressed so well.

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Deep peace of the running wave to you.
Deep peace of the flowing air to you.
Deep peace of the quiet earth to you.
Deep peace of the shining stars to you.
Deep peace of the gentle night to you.
Moon and stars pour their healing light on you

peace blogger

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