When I was young and empty
I'm joining in at Poetry Jam this week. The idea was to write a poem about windows. This, a piece I've re-vamped and dusted off, actually came from a line of a Galway Kinnell poem titled "Flying Home".
I used the line as a lead-in title and ended up as my childself, staring out the window.
When I was Young andEmpty
Chandeliers hung outside my bedroom window.These were the stars, but I did not know that then.I held light on the tips of my fingers, my palmspressed against the pane, my hands spread openon the glass.Penlights illuminated each nail.And within was a fire of my own making:my blood rising to redden the strata, gatheringlight into a lifeline.
For more poems and some lovely photos of windows, visit Poetry Jam
I used the line as a lead-in title and ended up as my childself, staring out the window.
When I was Young andEmpty
Chandeliers hung outside my bedroom window.These were the stars, but I did not know that then.I held light on the tips of my fingers, my palmspressed against the pane, my hands spread openon the glass.Penlights illuminated each nail.And within was a fire of my own making:my blood rising to redden the strata, gatheringlight into a lifeline.
For more poems and some lovely photos of windows, visit Poetry Jam
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