Monday, July 15, 2013


                       The Layers

I have walked through many lives,
some of them my own,
and I am not who I was,
though some principle of being
abides, from which I struggle
not to stray.
When I look behind ,
as I am compelled to look
before I can gather strength
to proceed on my journey,
I see the milestones dwindling
toward the horizon
and the slow fires trailing
from the abandoned camp-sites,
over which scavenger angels
wheel on heavy wings.
Oh, I have made myself a tribe
out of my true affections,
and  my tribe is scattered!
How shall the heart be reconciled
to its feast of losses?
in a rising wind
the manic dust of my friends,
those who fell along the way,
bitterly stings my face.
Yet I turn, I turn,
exulting somewhat,
with my will intact to go
wherever I need to go,
and every stone on the road
precious to me.
In my darkest night,
when the moon was covered
and I roamed through wreckage,
a nimbus-clouded voice
directed me:
“Live in the layers,
not on the litter.”
Though I lack the art
to decipher it,
no doubt the next chapter
in my book of tranformations
is already written.
I am not done with my changes.
                               -Stanley Kunitz

Thursday, July 11, 2013

My heart

I can see you staring at my heart.

And wondering how does it work
Don't be afraid
It's safe from the rain
After these long hours
You keep breaking the silence

By Amelia