poem #45

solitary fire 2
The shore is dry as the tide retreats and dabbles with the moon
The waves are a far echo of a cave, a canyon
The life that consequence brings and abandons at our doors
is a garland of flowers long ago tossed by someone walking
Through passageways that disappear into waterfalls
and the soft sounds of everything still and eloquently wise
The dialogue of places begins in the thaw of knowing
that every longing has its syntax and solitary fire
Every heart is a gap in an echo that would resound
uninterrupted but for the weeping beyond hearing
All of everything is not a sum or a loss but a grief
and the zero penetration that frost becomes in winter days
With the incessant drifting of boundaries and the need
to leave the whispering and loss behind
– Christina Murphy
Christina Murphy lives and writes in a 100-year-old arts and crafts style house on the Ohio River. Her poetry explores consciousness as a subjective experience. Her most recent work has appeared in PANKLa Fovea, StepAway Magazine, Pear Noir!, and Humanimalz Literary Journal. Her work has twice been nominated for a Pushcart Prize and for the 2012 Best of the Net Anthology
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