Thursday, February 25, 2016

A Poem by Terri Simon


Empty handed,
I paint the sky.
A knuckle rubs out
a space for the sun.
A fingernail marks
a line of clouds.
I mold mountains,
smooth here, jagged there,
then twirl and spin up trees,
pines and oaks.
The scent of earth
is my breath.
I carve out winding pathways
and fill in the threads
of rivers
with my tears.
Like the dried salt of
sleep-stained eyes,
stones fall where they may.
My children,
with their lovely heartbeats,
will someday wonder at the view,
carefree and unexplained.

Terri Simon has degrees from Sarah Lawrence College (Writing/Literature) and Virginia Tech (Computer Science) and works in IT.  She lives in Laurel, Maryland with her husband and dogs.  She organizes a poetry Meetup, plays hand drums, and has more projects started than she will ever finish.  Her work has appeared in Aberration Labyrinth, Three Line Poetry, Black Mirror Magazine, and the anthologies A Mantle of Stars:  A Queen of Heaven Devotional, Bright Stars:  An Organic Tanka Journal (Volume 1) and Switch (The Difference) and has received honorable mention in Kind of a Hurricane Press' Editor's Choice for 2015.

No comments:

Post a Comment