October 28, 2015
in Photographs, Poetry
The October Blood – Part One
These wisps of disconsolation are a fleeting eulogy to falling, a carol to the withering season.
These wisps of disconsolation are a fleeting eulogy to falling, a carol to the withering season.
Does absence becomes presence, a sacrament of holding— latent as I evoke you now and a young girls hand slips into mine?
see us and believe
I curled my hand around its grace; it touched my soul like a mother’s face.