Looking at Photos

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That was me—
the happiest me
apparent not only for the smile
but for the glow emanating
from my supposedly knowing soul.

It was March,
and I certain declared
for a future unfearing
with most endearing you
truly unencumbered.

But then April came
and you fell, oh God,
how you fell so so hard
shattering the spine
of your loving soul.

And the March me
withering wandered
through meaningless days
awaiting the waxing moon
to birth a new hope,

leaving trembling me
to endure on masticated memories
that growl desperation
in the deepest hollows
of shallow nights.

7 thoughts on “Looking at Photos”

  2. It’s beautifully written as always George. It gave a me a surprise to read it freshly published, just after you’d liked my “A thousand ills” post, which was about some re-arising old stuff. But you’ve written a beautiful poem here. And Cassa is right… April is often the most fierce-and-beautifully-blooming month of all. Hugs.

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    • I wrote it a couple of days go, Lia, have been dwelling on it for months, and never had the courage to publish it. Fearful of it being read. And how it might make someone feel. Your piece, as I felt it, was all about courage. So, thank you.

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      Reply ↓

      • Awwww! Well thank *you*! 😃🙏🥰 I appreciate it very much. Yes, I so hear you!!! Publishing our deepest heart stuff is very tough, for exactly that reason. And online the weird and often unintentional timing of events just sometimes mucks things up! (Well for this here mud-roller anyway 😂) (meaning me, just to be clear 🦆😜😆)

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