Web
We bind to those we touch,
connect with fine filaments
which stretch out to safe havens,
pull in from precipices,
protect.
And though friends die
the filament does not fray
nor the connection end.
We remain joined.
Therefore build your web
full and strong, unfurled
in countless rays
lest in death
your un-tethered soul sinks.
connect with fine filaments
which stretch out to safe havens,
pull in from precipices,
protect.
And though friends die
the filament does not fray
nor the connection end.
We remain joined.
Therefore build your web
full and strong, unfurled
in countless rays
lest in death
your un-tethered soul sinks.
6 Comments:
i like this. it has truth and it gives a strong visual to me. it has a bittersweet quality.
Thanks, Sherry. I appreciate your stopping by and checking things out here.
hey, saw ya at sarah j's latest poetry quiz. this poem touched my soul. my gran died about two months ago and it's still raw.
i like your web thoughts.
Dear Lana Turner (you know who you really are),
Sorry about your gran. After my grandmother (Nannie) died we moved into her home for a while. My daughter, who was around 4 then would ask "Who is that lady in the window?" and then describe my Nannie to a tee.
I still feel connected to my Nannie after 15 years. :)
oh wow.
that is so touching.
my M4 still talks daily about gran, he is the youngest of our kiddos, and feels his loss keenly. i am interested that he is processing it so verbally. i guess it's the age he is (and he's kinda verbose, like his mamma lol).
you know, your poem today about the honeysuckle reminds me that no matter what, I really can't deny God's existence. it's been a weird week, so thanks xx
Thanks for dropping in again. Glad these little poems have touched you in some way. God bless you and all your little ones.
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