12 january
sweeping the threshold
pools of litter
illuminated in the morning light
piled at her feet
lifeless now but
she was haunted by the scenes that lay in those piles
dust to dust is the price one pays
for the impact
of what we leave in our wake
powdery flakes her grandmother had walked through long ago
microscopic bits of crayons the children had colored with
when their hands were still tiny
dirt from the garden her mother had tracked in
that day in October when they had planted all the tulips
sand from the beach they had all swept in circles...
in and out like the tide
one she had laid with
on this wooden floor
under the light of the moon that night
fragments they had created with their storm
still sparkled in some remote crevice
of this threshold that she swept now
nice...i like the indirect approach you take in this...the littler/broken things give us a glimpse of the fierceness of their union though only for a moment its affects echo out....
ReplyDeleteI like the suggestion that we never really get rid of anything (or it never really gets rid of us). I've often imagined that I am breathing the very same air that Abraham Lincoln once breathed, or that I'm seeing the same stars that Marie Antoinette once saw. There are always bits and pieces of the past in the present. Thank you for this powerful reminder.
ReplyDeleteA Singular Whirl
Wonderfully done...it's funny as a little girl I loved to sweep, and now when I sweep I will see some of the things you have told me. I see that fragments of our lives are all there on the floor, tiny bits and pieces.
ReplyDeleteI like the flashing of memories when these things are laid before your eyes to be swept away ~ A pensive write ~ Thanks for linking up with Real Toads ~ Happy Sunday ~
ReplyDeleteSometimes we just need to sweep away all debris of broken memories and start anew. You brought out the pain of doing such a thing very well.
ReplyDeletefragments they had created with their storm - I love this, such tenderness and love, the gentle touch is grace. Very nice
ReplyDeleteWhat a fine sweep of emotions and words..long may something's glow as they have passed..maybe they stay inside us
ReplyDeleteYou weave all the prompts together so well!
ReplyDeletedust to dust is the price one pays
for the impact
of what we leave in our wake - these lines stood out to me.
I like the way you interpreted all the flakes of colour, made up of elements of one's life.
ReplyDeletethe price one pays
ReplyDeletefor the impact
of what we leave in our wake
I love those lines especially.....and the idea that all that has been is still here, somehow......
Places do hold the energy of what has happened in them. Lovely poem from start to finish.
ReplyDeleteNice, nice write--really lovely--the images, the feel of it!
ReplyDeleteThis is delightful. Memories are in every crevice and the dust particles themselves. The threshold itself seeing all the comings and goings and holding on to the past like us.
ReplyDeleteVery beautiful and touching work - artfully done, enjoyed the sensitivity and delicately lingering emotion in this... With Best Wishes Scott www.scotthastie.com
ReplyDeleteLife moves on and on the way we sometimes gather dust and sometimes leave things behind. Lovely write.
ReplyDeletea tender touch............
ReplyDeletewell placed words......... .....
ReplyDeletethe impact of life reflected in our memories.... a beautiful poem/story... the picture is perfect as a backdrop too.... ms pie
ReplyDeleteReally nice. I especially like Annell’s summary – it’s all there on the floor – it may look like there’s nothing there after we’ve swept or vacuumed, but truly, that is impossible, as you’ve expressed so well.
ReplyDelete