The Way of It

And darkness became her

defined and divined her

consumed and illumed her

 

And over her shoulder, she’d

looked into the madness of despair

and knew

 

          the way of the world

 

And the heart of her

the dawn and persistence of her

fractured

 

          but did not break

 

And as the innocence of her

the simplicity and naiveté of her

shattered on the altar of clarity

 

her tears joined the cosmic chorus

of empathy and pathos

 

And over her shoulder

her straight and strong shoulders

glittered her first dawn

Reviews

[emmajoy]

Seems more a realisation that nothing is quite as it seems, that vision can sometimes distort truth, tis only emotional purity that really wins in the end.

It's interesting to read your other reviewers' comments, how people see and analyse differently, less or more, pro or con; to me your words are always extraordinary, always make one think and feel.

[Bare trees]

The innocence of an angel awakening to the realism of the world and its ways. Charles sounds very intelligent, but I don't see such complexity in this myself. I also think kelly is right when she says how do you not respond? Your work is always of a high caliber and there are always moments where the spirit of your words leave me speechless. Beautiful work.

[Kelly Scheppers]

What truly amazes me about this writing, is that it only garnished 2 reviews out of 24 "looks"! When you read something of this caliber, how do you NOT respond? Then again, maybe it is your caliber to blame, Jill! Perhaps you leave the reader so immersed and overcome with awe that they simply can't find the words...

I think Charles dissected it too much. It breathes emotion to me, and each stanza led me by the hand, to the other.

It's beautiful...


Love,
Kelly

[C. M. Miller]

In this read I am reminded of a primal birth of some sort, can't quite articulate the word of my emotions . . . but to me in my jumbled thoughts, it brings to mind a birthing cycle, like a pre-birth consciousness within a womb of unknown reality, then an exiting and then a mourning of a loss of innocence there, and then being thrust into a world where true innocence is fast becoming a lost art . . . the umbilicus is severed and the harsh truth of the world permeates her being. There is definitive poetic pause just before the last stanza, where the reader can finally take a breath . . . then the last stanza reveals that the extremes of her chaotic awakening lie silent, and she faces the inevitable dichotomy of her future with a fearless resolve. Anyway, just my take.