Stillness

She slowly stirred the sugar
in her rose hip tea,
wondering at the massive
stillness outside her window.

The ever-present clatter of chimes
absent, no wind to rattle the metal
or carry the scent of the crocuses —
the one flower she allowed in her garden —

into her quiet room. It was in these still
moments that the grief she kept close
at hand would seep through her skin
to settle with an ache into her marrow

and reveal the secret colors
of her wounded soul; the blacks
and grays sun and wind could
conceal, but never cleanse.

Purple Crocus

Purple Crocus (Photo credit: Someguy of the Outerworld and Afar)

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Written for the Sunday Whirl wordle.

Advertisements

15 Comments

Filed under Poetry, Poetry - Prompts

15 responses to “Stillness

  1. Excellent wordling, Mark

  2. lenwilliamscarver

    you have captured my emotions exactly ~ thank you for expressing so beautifully the way I feel grieving my daughter.

    ” It was in these still
    moments that the grief she kept close
    at hand would seep through her skin
    to settle with an ache into her marrow

    and reveal the secret colors
    of her wounded soul; the blacks
    and grays sun and wind could
    conceal, but never cleanse.”

  3. tmhHoover

    The last stanza is thick with loss, You give words to colorless grief.

  4. There are so many answers that come to us in such stillness. This is such a lovely write Mark.

  5. Gosh, that is so pretty, Mark. A very nice read.

    Pamela

  6. Having lost my stepdad just a couple weeks ago, it’s been difficult to read so many poems focused on grief. I just keep crying my way through them. I found some moments of stillness on my trip — while making the 1,100-mile drive alone, as well as in the quiet expanse of rural Iowa. Love that last stanza.

    ~Paula

  7. Shawna

    Ooh, I like your use of “hip.”

    “massive stillness outside her window” … Nice.

    “in these still moments that the grief she kept close at hand would seep through her skin” … Still moments suck when they behave this way.

    Love this: “the blacks and grays sun and wind could conceal, but never cleanse”

  8. Beautifully woven, Mark. I especially love: “reveal the secret colors
    of her wounded soul.” Seamless use of the words.

  9. This is a lovely expression of grief, Mark. Well wordled piece.

  10. magicalmysticalteacher

    Although this poem is thick with the scent of loss, it is also redolent of hope: she allows one flower in her garden, a flower that blooms when very few others will, the crocus.

    Whirling Haiku and Senryu

  11. Beautiful and sad. I was moved by the “quiet room” that was also absent of sound and smell – very powerful. And that ending, the way you used color, just perfect.

    Richard

Some of what I write is true, some is fiction; most is merely possibility.

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s