Where beginning and end meet, where
the smell of my grandmother lives,
as does her memory. I can fly in this
nirvana, unaware of my feet, and feast
on freedom. In this beautiful place,
I don’t need a mirror to know
I am tall, thin
and perfect. My body is graceful
and light, my hair thick and shiny.
No pain plagues me, no tears
of frustration, no rejection.
My father visits from time to time,
a strange familiar face,
asking for forgiveness.
Welcome to my winter count
16 years ago
3 comments:
Forget the tall, thin and perfect - they have issues too you know. Perfect as you are. Glad this place has the smell of your grandmother though, that is the best place of all.
Another keeper. Consider sending this one off to a journal Lynn. The ending especially has a lifting, resonating effect that's very strong.
Lynn, I really like how this piece sets off my imagination and makes me think in the beginning. The first line " I like where the beginning and end meet" Here I pause, stop and think. Because you have not titled the poem "my" perfect place, you allow room for the me to think here what my perfect place is. I ponder what is my Nirvana like? I like how you then introduce what your "Nirvana" is. This arrangement flows nicely. And I feel your poem deeply because of the personal component you have included. Thank-you.
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