Circumstance

I am like the sand beneath the twisted limbs

of long ago fallen trees of circumstance

torn from their fertile soil

by violent winds of change and raging waters deception.

Ravaged remnants of who I was,

like discarded shells

are scattered across my once glittering plane.

Each grain hints of a time when life flowed freely, abundantly,

in a continuing sequence of renewal.

A time when the warmth in my heart

matched the warmth of the sun’s rays

as they shimmered through my depths

The cool breeze blew gently,

shifting me to fit the contours of time.

But not now, perhaps not ever again.

Waves, cold and steel gray,

press down

obscuring the landscape of my mind,

while I wait….with hope,

for the ebbing tide to come

and wash away all I have been hidden by.

Reviews

[Toni Prehoda Kahler]

I like the immediate pull of your first lines, because I become the sand along with you, and ride your images into the despair and distruction. Sand is wonderful imagry to portray your mood of change, and I like how you further use the individual grains as moods from the past. When waves descend upon this contrasting landscape, I feel the strength it takes to "wait... with hope..."
I can relate to this piece from my past experiences, though with much less hope than you, and therefore I admire the ending sentiment.
Small suggestion: Perhaps end the work with the word "hidden" instead of "by", the sentence could be worked a bit to preserve your meaning.
It's a strong piece, much enjoyed.

[Emily B]

beautiful work

[RHEA CROSLEY]

Like the hope. It reminds me that with God "all things are possible" . Good write.

[Voice]

This poem really speaks to me and I can truly relate. It was sad but at the same time beautiful. It flowed nicely and expressed great emotion I love it�

Voice

[emz]

beautifully written... full of emotion, sadness and a little regret.. i enjoyed this very much x

[Arthur Henn]

The moments we see the music of a poem embrace our souls.

Michelle, as I read this wonderful image of your poem,
I imagine the beginning of a film with a voice
reading your canvas of words leading us in to the beginning
of the end, of a wonderful scene that stays with you
throughout the movie, wanting to rush to the bookstore
to buy the poets book of poems.

Superb!

Art