Tuesday, August 23, 2011

Piece by Piece

Walking through mere snapshots
of passions of my life,
barefoot in the warm dirt,
mystery of the silent deer,
my apple tree, climbed, loved,
broken by a storm. Swinging
in my mother's arms, childhood
wrapped in her song then mailed away.
All too soon stood up, cut out,
then loosing a precious part
that runs away, refusing to bow
down to the altars of sex, love,
the mighty avalanche of chance
and destiny breaking women to make
more children and ache over them.
To win or fail, to loose identity
and finally, after a long time,
the quest to pick up,
piece by piece, the early mornings,
to call back the soul that ran away.


  1. I think this is a fabulous piece - says it all, and says it so well!

  2. Oh Lorna, this is beautiful writing. I loved it.

  3. Love the imagery and the words of the first part, especially the bit about the apple tree. The second part is kinda sad, life does happen and one forgets that part of self that is of true joy, does indeed make one want to retrieve that lost part of one's self somehow.

  4. wow lorna!! this is amazing...i have goosebumps! very nice!


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