By the time words arrive they are far too late: meaning has already gone to sleep. I let them enter anyway. They seem to know what I do not. They rest on the table, beside a cup of cooling tea, as though waiting to be remembered. Maybe this is what belief is like: dwelling with what doesn't bother to explain itself, finding comfort that it will stay. Outside, the wind continues its unfinished sentence.
I sometimes wake with lines in the middle of the night and I have the mental wherewithal to write them down. Other times I tell myself I’ll remember. Sometimes I do.
Thank you for sharing this poem, @Kathleen Hobbs
You're welcome, Paul
Thanks to @Deborah Owens for this restack!
Thank you for the restack, @Lique
Good morning, @rena, and thank you for this restack 🌻🌻
Thank you for this restack, @Earl Nobdy
My thanks to @Blue Citizen 77 and Diane for sharing this poem. 💙💙
My thanks to @Harley King and Creative Seeds of Hope for sharing this poem.
Thank you for this restack, @Maureen Doallas
I do my best work half asleep. The more awake I get, the words stop making their music
I sometimes wake with lines in the middle of the night and I have the mental wherewithal to write them down. Other times I tell myself I’ll remember. Sometimes I do.
Delicate. The image of words arriving late and the unfinished sentence of the wind lingers beautifully. <3
I should not complain about words arriving late—sometimes they don’t arrive at all. Thank you for reading and commenting, Petra.
You’re most welcome. <3
By the time I write the words down, half of them have already flown away…🩵
That’s part of the price we pay when we choose to be a writer 📝 🩵🩵
https://substack.com/@richardhogan1/note/c-282432953?r=3ea8ga&utm_medium=ios&utm_source=notes-share-action
the wind continues
its unfinished sentence. Ah yes …
Thank you for reading and commenting, Lori.
Persuasively penned, Paul! Alliteration is not a literary device I often use. Your post today just prompted its use. Have a gentle day!
Wow Paul - this stanza is so good!! “Maybe this is what belief is like:
dwelling with what doesn't bother
to explain itself, finding comfort
that it will stay.”
Thank you, Holly. I think the words can also apply equally to faith.
Yes, I agree 💛
Truly, gorgeous, Paul. This poem emoted a nice feeling for me.🙏
Glad for the resonance, Don. Thank you!