Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Real


Do I dream?
Who speaks
in the soft breeze cooling
the fever of my ecstacy ?
Who has healed the agony
of pain in my porous bones,
bathed the salt of my tears
in this font of forgiveness?
Who has breached the
sands of separation,
to touch me in this lagoon?
Love
presses my ragged
flesh into word.
I am real.

3 comments:

  1. A beautiful piece Anne, from suffering to healing... I love 'presses my ragged felsh into word.'

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  2. Thanks Avril and Tess. I didn't have time to post today. Still learning how to manage this blog site. Setting up the new Journal pages took quite a while.

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