My Garden of Matches

I hold back on the let go,

chase words to the corner

of my cheek so they can’t

reach my tongue.


It isn’t easy in the pressure cooker

when pain reaches the boiling point.


Tamp it down…Lock it up…The agony of other souls

doesn’t need the added weight of my struggle.


When withers in its question like yesterday’s cut roses.

For now, I must water the matches, prune the flames

from patience until it is my time to be heard.

©Susie Clevenger 2020


  1. 'water the matches, prune the flames' ~~~ exquisite.

  2. Yeah, I can definitely relate to this. Some days I manage better than others, I'm thankful for those cushions of good days that keep me from reaping the harvest in my own overgrown garden of matches.

  3. Susie, don't quench all those matches. I at least can have empathy and also pray IF I know. But for medical advances and good doctors I would not be alive today. It all started downhill in early 2001 but was simmering before I knew. For many, many poets and writers and even 'mere bloggers' like me the blog is an outlet that we can handle. I started in 2005 after seeing what a family friend was doing. FB and others also now are fitting.
    BTW, I mostly blow my matches out but I don't have a whole garden of them to tend. And FREE matches and even store bought are hard to find now.
    And you and daughter and family have been on my list soon after we met here.

  4. "When withers in its question like yesterday’s cut roses," this is such a strong image! Love this, Susie! 💝💝

  5. What despair so many of us must feel with the cruelty and senselessness of recent events where disdain is shown to those of a different color. Why aren't we better than this?

  6. "chase words to the corner of my cheek so they can't reach my tongue" So well-put.


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