Sumyanna Writes

Another fourteen line poem…


Pieces of me are left for the ether, whether words or song
my thoughts lie rampant beneath my quiet chest
and I lose myself in the tiniest of details…
in the sounds not heard, the voices not spoken
in the breaths yet taken, and the history of the land beneath my feet.
I hold my ears close to the earthen fields
and wait as silence settles in my heart
I listen to the sound of spring rains and summer promises
I am gently lulled by autumn’s last breath before winter’s death and decay
I am always on edge, waiting for the next exhale of possibility –
swept beneath a silent sunrise
These moments of stillness absorb within my skin,
and become the blood with which I bleed and the air with which I breathe
beauty, taken in – gives life to the hollowed recesses of our…

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