healing and wheeling through days of quiet and darkness

is a lonely shadow.

when silence strikes and space

opens her cold arms to embrace

the child,

the silent baby,

in stark light and cool

comfort.

an unseen dance,

slow, intent, throbbing;

in the kitchen at midnight

hidden

behind drawn

shades.

broken and wanting completion despite

the knowing that it’s broken.

is reconstruction yearning?

gravity seeks the source of her own

wholeness

and the heaviness of silent days

tips an imaginative scale,

there is not a weight great enough to balance

the force of growth

that pushes down into the cold months of quiet lengthening.

dreams aside,

the occlusion between

here and there

is a gulf of shadow rhythm

scratching

on the front door.

and I am dancing a slow,

slow dance,

alone

in silence.

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Assistant Editor: Brenna Fischer/Editor: Bryonie Wise

Photo: Flickr