Friday, April 04, 2008

His Little Girl

translucent memories
quiver
when I hear you speak

little earthquakes and
rivers
form inside my head

bringing down like buildings
falling
till I’m drowning but not dead

hear me mourning, morning I will be
calling
on my God to chase away the

translucent memories

8 comments:

christine said...

This is beautiful, Sara.
Translucent memories
quiver

An immediate hook into the poem. Your voice is delicate and nuanced.

paisley said...

i agree with christine on the delicacy of the word choices,,, but i also get the feeling that these are not good memories...
"falling
till I’m drowning but not dead"...

i have to wonder if the memories are being blocked out and thus just fragmented whisps of them are there to catch you off guard... very interesting piece..

susan said...

Thanks for continuing to visit me even when I didn't have the energy or drive to reciprocate. Truly appreciate your support. I'm back and feeling better.
Peace,
Susan

STP said...

I felt incredible pain and longing in this poem. A thought provoking piece for me.

Scot said...

one for many to identify with. well written sad poem

janetleigh said...

This piece reminds me of a little girl who'd call on her God in the morning for comfort after a night with a monster in her bed. (mourning/morning)("drowning" in her tears..?)

Very heavy piece for me, but very very well written, Sara.

UL said...

yes i like 'translucent memories', very nice.

Lyrically speaking said...

I am feeling so inspired by your words