With faint light in her eyes
hair awry and wiry
trodden down starting from the top
in the yellow sweatshirt that’s
consuming her hands
she shrinks inside
before turning the corner
a slight curve of her mouth
less than half a smile
easily missed by those
who have already decided
who she is.
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
Dear ones,
I know you think me gone forever.
Tire of windwhipped ears, frozen fingers,
numb toes dancing in boots to regain feeling.
I noticed your hesitation at the door, a pause to brace yourself
before the blast of chill. Your hope pushed down deep,
warm in your pocket, is crumbling.
Before you go off on another rant let me point out,
Forsythia is blooming now, right next door.
Just when you can’t take another day
I will return,
a fresh bouquet in my hands.
Your ever loving and loyal,
Spring
© Alicia Grimshaw 2017
Photo taken right in my own neighborhood.
I will walk beside you. Fill your cracks
with care. Speak your strengths, over
and over until they are glue. Help you
see all truly beautiful things were once
broken. I will love you with abandon
pour a hot cup of tea. Search for your
missing shards. Pluck out sharp words
used for self-inflicted pain. Chant, cheer,
and call your name. I will run ahead
to look for danger and get behind to push.
But please know you have the final piece
to set in place. I can’t make you whole again.
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
Photo thanks to PIXABAY
“How do you keep your heart whole?” he asked. “I can’t bear the breaking.”
“You don’t,” she whispered. “Let it crack open,
like a ruby pomegranate full of moments you have been alive.
Tear away the soft sides, let the jeweled pieces scatter.
They will be found. Picked up by the parched,
carried forward into days where hearts
will be strong enough to break, expand.”
“I am not that strong.” he said, shaking his head.
Tearing off a part of her own heart.
“Take some of my mine, you will be.”
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
© Ali Grimshaw 2017
When the last leaf has fallen,
and I am left on my own,
my sorrow will have no company.
You took the colors with you.
You took the colors with you,
my questions left alone in the air.
Bleached silence, no reply.
I gave away too much again,
White walls with no solutions,
an empty palette in my hands.
© Ali Grimshaw
After I posted the above poem printed in red. The Original Phoenix asked me this question, “How do you find the new colors?” What a wonderful question to consider. Today I dedicate this expanded poem to her for inspiring me to dig deeper and bring the rest to life. Although I still didn’t answer her question, I continue to ponder it. Thank you! Check out her blog, CONFESSIONS OF A REBORN GIRL. Never underestimate the power of offering feedback. We all need each other.
© Ali Grimshaw
flashlight batteries - Ali Grimshaw 