"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray

"Poetry unites." ~Anon

"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson


Written by Kathryn Kirkpatrick
She lives in Boone, North Carolina, USA

(Originally published by The Cortland Review, May 2007, Issue 35)

When she left

you went into the barn
to open windows,
release house wrens
trapped in the eaves,
and they rose to the top
branches of the buckeye
while you stood below,
rooted, facing what was left
of the day, until finally
they flew beyond memory
into dusk and you went in
to sleep so drenched by dreams
you did not want to wake.

Posted with consent from the writer.

5 Comments:

  1. Linda S. Socha said...
    Understate power and such truth found in this face of loss and change
    Linda
    Karen said...
    The action of this poem - the release and rising of the wrens, contrasted with the rootedness of the subject and the entrenched dreams - is a perfect metaphor for loss. Using only one sentence unifies the action into one intense emotional description.
    Glynis said...
    I felt in this the emotional release and then the curling up to sleep forever. The need for comfort. I enjoyed this, thanks for sharing.
    Hannah said...
    This poem bring me so much emotion:-)
    K.Lawson Gilbert said...
    An achingly sad poem, so realistically depicted, so beautifully wrought. Isn't it irony itself that the birds were freed, while the person freeing them remains a prisoner of thoughts/feelings?

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