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Friday, January 12, 2024

Ninety-Seven Days

 


 Ninety-Seven Days

Ninety-seven walk through glue days.
In a row.
Soul rubbed raw.

For better or worse, the inside of everything is showing now.

My eyes are dust. The harshest images
defy tears.
I cry only from that which is tender.

Too much of this. Not
Enough of that.

Half my heart is severed.
And half soars towards redemption.

Finally.

at

2 comments:

  1. Rahel F Adye9:22 PM

    Raw. Succinct. I feel you.

    ReplyDelete
  2. Anonymous5:33 AM

    Rivka, I love and relate to this poem. Ty!

    ReplyDelete

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