The Sound of Ink

She sits on my shoulder,  a feathered sage whispering to my dreams about a tomorrow I can’t see and doors yet to be open. With the gentle touch of my hair resting against her owl feathers I feel the caress of angels who  watch from Capricorn’s moon, and loneliness feels less empty. Outside my window trees write their wind stories across the glass. Without a sound the owl stirs  the silence with its wings. Within me the knowing forms, it is time for her to leave to write her own page in the journal of midnight. ©Susie Clevenger 2024  

September gently rustles dry leaves of August’s drought, and I hear it urging me to rest.   Just as it must deal with the cackle of summer’s dusted leavings, I too need to surrender the weight of months to a past I can’t unravel.   The ninth month has always birthed a hunger in me to learn, to search the unknown. This year I will nest in the breath of dreams and let peace teach worry lessons in unburdening.   ©Susie Clevenger 2020 Word Crafters Prompt ~ Favorite Month Poets and Storytellers United Weekly Scribblings #35    

Oh, a storm is threat'ning my very life today... If I don't get some shelter Oh yeah, I'm gonna fade away - Rolling Stones I crawl into ink where pain has no blood stains and agony is anesthetized with poetry. Torment penned on confession’s diary shelters me from the needle points of terrifying silence. Folded into butterflies I send my voice on wings praying the world outside my prison will rescue me. ©Susie Clevenger 2020 For all those who must shelter in place with abusers...May you be heard...May you be rescued. Inspired by Carrie Thackeray Van Horn's Shelter prompt at Word Crafters