there is a bright storm. a clinging net of cotton
as cloud, a particle of open in the fistfuls of blue
a mime that opens mouth and turns startled,
to hear the birds calling out so far, so far, so far.
someday is a beautiful word, we rest our hearts.
there is nothing wrong with resting, even
Woody Allen has to sleep in blissful ignorance.
we all sleep. we all sleep. we all sleep.
there is a bright storm. a down and tear filled
gloaming, the sting of cold against the last sun
where we gather our arms around one another
and silence or breath is our acknowledgment
we do not know why, we do not know why, we do not
know why.
maggie may ethridge
dedicated to the parents of Chelsea King, Brent and Kelly King
My Published Memoir
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"What would happen if one woman told the truth about her life? The world would split open " M.R.
she's precocious / and she knows just what it takes / to make the pros blush
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what i thought love was is so much less than what it is
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Someone may have stolen your dream when it was young and fresh and you were innocent. Anger is natural. Grief is appropriate. Healing is mandatory. Restoration is possible. -Jane Rubietta
you can stand under my umbrella
the light is on for you
My dear child, who can tell? One can only tell that, by remembering something which happened where we lived before; and as we remember nothing, we know nothing about it; and no book, and no man, can ever tell us certainly.
Some couples don’t ask much of one another after they’ve worked out the fundamentals of jobs and children. Some live separate intellectual and cultural lives, and survive, but the most intense, most fulfilling marriages need, I think, to struggle toward some kind of ideological convergence. Norman Rush
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"I pay no attention whatever to anybody's praise or blame. I simply follow my own feelings." - Wolfgang Amadeus Mozart
We do not know why...a sharp, metallic mantra that fits uncomfortably in the mouth.
Beautiful post.
Been thinking of them. Been thinking of you.
Hopefully some closure.
No return, but closure of some sort.
I love the word gloaming.
This is beautiful, Maggie. The line that "there is nothing wrong with resting" echoes some thinking I've been doing related to experiences with death as well.
My heart goes out to them all.
Oh, Maggie, I think this poem is one of the best I've ever read of yours -- it's haunting and chilling and deeply spiritual -- the echo and repetition makes the hair on my arms rise up and stay there. I'm left, my mouth open --
Absolutely beautiful.
Gloaming is one of my favorite words and it's only fitting that it would appear in this, now one of my favorite poems. Beautiful, Maggie.
You are a tender heart.
So happy to have found you.
Love love love,
pf
Beautiful. More, please.
You are a tender heart~
So happy to have found you.
Love love love,
pf
One of the things I like the most about you is your depth of compassion. This poem clearly illustrates it.
Beautiful thoughts. Wonderfully written.
"someday is a beautiful word"
that's my favorite part.
xo Alison
You have awesome words. That is the best I could put it, awesome words!
Ah, the arrows of sorrow that pierce the heart leaving in their trail nothing more than that cloud you so beautifully described.
May they find a way out of that maze of pain and uncertainty. The truth is fragile but powerful. Some day we shall know, we must know so we can stop it from happening again.
{beautiful}
silenced.
incredible poem
I hope the KIngs comes across this beautiful poem. xo
"there is a bright storm. a down and tear filled
gloaming, the sting of cold against the last sun
where we gather our arms around one another
and silence"
This is grand and heart-ripping and eloquent all at the same time. Damn, it's good.
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