Inside My Shell


How much sky can I hold
in an empty cup or moon
on the tip of my tongue?

I pray to light, wings,
and the darkness within me
to hold my legs firm
when every step taps
the spine of inquest…
What about tomorrow?

My shell of walls and windows
grows heavier with every sunset.

©Susie Clevenger 2020


Poetry is my journal. I write out what I can't keep in. Some days are dark..Some days are light. I created the image through Gimp's photo program. Do I know what I'm doing? No...I've never used Gimp before, but Google is guiding me to instruction. I'm always trying to learn something new. 

Comments

  1. FireblossomMarch 27, 2020 at 11:37 AM

    Ooh, this is so atmospheric, Susie. Wonderful 55!

    ReplyDelete
  2. Carrie Van HornMarch 27, 2020 at 12:06 PM

    I think we all can relate to the feelings you have beautifully shared here Susie. Gorgeous poetry!!

    ReplyDelete
  3. hedgewitchMarch 27, 2020 at 12:33 PM

    The feel of the times is in this, Susie. The uncertainty, the reaching for solace in the beauty that remains, the moon or sky outside our shells. "..the spine of inquest.." really hit me. Stunning 55, and I'm so glad you joined us in a time when having a kickass weekend has to be thoroughly redefined.

    ReplyDelete
  4. Steve KingMarch 28, 2020 at 7:35 AM

    There is always the question of what our capabilities and sensibilities can yield us, or even if the return is worth our emotional investment. We keep asking and hoping. Hope must be at the root of all the questioning. Very well done.

    ReplyDelete
  5. Other MaryMarch 29, 2020 at 1:04 PM

    This is gorgeous, Susie.

    ReplyDelete

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