Hills: an original poem by Kevin Fellows.
Photo by Evgeniy Prokofiev on Unsplash I dreamt they left,every last oneA chain of terrible goodbyes,faces quiet, slipping away,their presence lostBut it was I who went awayfrom every last one If you'd like to receive three original poems each Friday afternoon, sign up for Soft Vulnerable Things.
A Poem Photo by radu emanuel on Unsplash What peels from you like skinthat you cast to the currentsas offering? What lasting peace can you makefrom dying embers?What do you bring bundledfrom your near-forgottenancestors? How far can you goin the light of a sunlit moon?And how should you go?What grieves and sustains you? (C) 2022 Kevin J. Fellows… Continue reading Offering