Tuesday, December 20, 2011

Written on an envelope.

Whispering orchards;
Dark and cool places between
Pears, apples, and the sweet bloom
Of healing.
Fresh mountain air;
Crisp and free,
The balm of Gilead
For my scarred, weary everything.
They call to me,
Quietly,
Silently,
With whispers that smell like soil.
My thumping heart;
My bleeding, stitched, bleeding heart
Pulls violently.
I want to go home.

5 comments:

  1. succulent read! i could see, smell and taste it! LOVE THAT!!!!!! a new fave! ♥

    http://magicinthebackyard.wordpress.com/2011/12/20/polaroids-of-delilah/

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  2. wow...felt...the wounded heart...and all the natural elements are very nice and evocative of home for me as well...nice write...

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  3. This is so good. I find so much healing in being in nature and taking in all that my senses allow me to, as you do in this.

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  4. home sickness is tough at times. I like the descriptions you used here.

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