Words are not just words
they are kisses
on the lips of silence
that speak of your essence

Monday, August 31, 2009

You begin by Margert Atwood

You begin this way:

this is your hand,

this is your eye,

this is a fish, blue and flat

on the paper, almost

the shape of an eye

This is your mouth,

this is an O

or a moon, whichever

you like.

This is yellow.

Outside the window

is the rain, green

because it is summer, and beyond that

the trees and then the world,

which is round and has only

the colors of these nine crayons.

This is the world, which is fuller

and more difficult to learn than I have said.

You are right to smudge it that way

with the red and then

the orange: the world burns.

Once you have learned these words

you will learn that there are more

words than you can ever learn.

The word hand floats above your hand

like a small cloud over a lake.The word hand anchors

your hand to this table

your hand is a warm stone

I hold between two words.

This is your hand, these are my hands,

this is the world,which is round

but not flat and has more colors

than we can see.

It begins, it has an end,

this is what you will

come back to,

this is your hand.


zoe said...

wow! that's a great one, new to me...i have really liked her poetry. thanks for this post, and the perfect image with it :)

Vesna said...

This poem is very close to my heart:) I am glad you like it dear Zoe, in a way it reminds me of you too