04 Sunday Jun 2017
Posted in Grief, Love, Meditation, Memory, Muse, My window at night, Yoga
Tags
How you pull me down and up
at once.
In you I see ancient, raw days
when I brought something polished
and fine and you,
face down,
eyes darting,
question my sincerity
which I prove again
and again, for now.
Daily Discussions of craft and the writing life
Cultivating compassion for all creatures great and small
Advancing the science of gardening and other stuff since 2009
At the Intersection of Art and Spirituality
Observe. Tend. Awaken.
Observe. Tend. Awaken.
The biography of a tiny forest
Starting a new job in Chicago
Advancing Analytics in Children's Hospitals
A helpful guide through analytics and data for health care
Where there’s Poverty, Passing … and Poetry, there be Truth
Poetry and Stories by Zach Jackson
Word-Experimentalist
Passion for writing ignites my soul's momentum
Garden Design, Gardening and Interior Decorating information, how-to, and ideas
Public Health Matters
Poems from in between 
How hard it can be to prove sincerity… it takes time, and can break in an instant.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Or else it isn’t really wanted? Sometimes I wonder about that …
LikeLike
Like you, I often write poetry based on memory, or rather the emotion that a particular event evoked. You captured the feeling, for sure.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thank you, Victoria. So appreciate your feedback.
LikeLiked by 1 person
There is a heartbreak in this–bringing the polished and fine gift and having it unappreciated. At least that is what I saw. Something hard to forget/forgive.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. You always see.
LikeLiked by 1 person
because you show me 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
If polished as much as this, I certainly understand the frustration. (And, “frustration” probably isn’t adequate.)
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes. Sometimes it is worth a wonder. 🙂
LikeLike