Colors Divine

A poem, written to the sound of “First Breath After Coma” by Explosions in the Sky

The act of walking away
a small, intricate withdrawal of the breath and the heart
in many gestures, the eyes are pulled forth
and that stretching distance between sight and soul
is a taut string plucked by the deserter

I am an old friend with a forgotten name
I have many days ahead of me
yet my thoughts circle the same patch of sand
the same beach, the same surf
that I have traversed many times before

Take comfort in my old grace
a sleeping shirt worn thin after many cycles
a warm hand pulled from a pocket
the smell of morning when waking from friendly dreams
the sound of tires crunching debris when turning home

Fit the objects of a life into one thought
a pillow, a pen, a coat and a cup
in these trinkets are the ingredients of happiness
a voice, held still, escapes from the folded page
and peels the real away, as good books once did

I carry with me the jar of fluttering things
each with a name, a story and a kindness
I ferry them to someplace warm
twisting off the lid, revealing open sky
and gift these winged characters new life

Soft, as whispers and autumn
yet equally surreptitious and chill
I find myself raising them in his wake
his feet no longer tasting earth
have reached clouds and sunrise and colors divine


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KT is an avid foodie/gamer/SFF reader with expertise in a variety of bizarre fields. Her love for technology, science, and internet media is only matched by her fondness for music, language and art. Karen is an aspiring writer with a meandering past. Her law and engineering books make wonderful counterweights to her fiction collections. She hopes to one day publish a novel, most likely in the young adult genre, but the future is an open book.

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