They saywhen one window shutsanother openswhen one passesa new soul is bornbut we comecryinginto this cold worldaloneas we leaveand it’s too coldfor that open windowafter darktoo lonely for tears
For Fireblossom’s prompt in the Imaginary Garden: DREAD
THIS is BEAUTIFUL! Absolutely perfect.
ReplyDelete:***-(
ReplyDeleteYes, Marian, I think that is the way things are.
ReplyDeleteLoved the open window thing, I wouldn't sleep by it. Doing that scares me. Once we stayed at a rundown motel in Oklahoma. The bedroom window wouldn't lock. We took turn staying awake that night.
..
Loneliness... sometimes we have to cope and make into solitude.
ReplyDeleteI hear you.
ReplyDeleteMy family spoke all night last night about the existence--or nonexistence--of God, of death, of the meaning of life. This poem would have fit right in...
ReplyDeleteOne obviously has to fight his own battle. No one is going to make it a piece of cake. Rightly so Marian
ReplyDeleteHank
Existential dread for sure, and so wonderfully distilled. k.
ReplyDeletewe enter alone, we leave alone but in between we long for togetherness. bravo.
ReplyDeleteNo way was I not going to have an intense reaction to your poem! Beautiful writing ...
ReplyDeletewhew. that's the cold that lingers ~
ReplyDeleteThat's the problem with the nakedly honest -- there's too little solace in it. Too cold, too lonely. So we write poems.
ReplyDeleteThat's a chill we can never find a blanket warm enough to remove. I have been doing my own contemplating on life...doubting much I once believed.
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