The End of Things

This week I have tackled a new poetry form each day. The Poetry Daily is an elegy today, which I don’t think I have ever written before. Although it might have been a NaPoWriMo challenge two years ago… The weather here is very heavy and this full moon has been characterised by another WordPress blogger, Mary Pat Lynch (Rising Moon Astrology) as “Dark Matter.”  The world news is far from jolly. Although it rarely is if you are Mother Earth, a child or woman these days. So if you are not in the mood for a Sorrowful Sunday, you may want to delay reading this until Mournful Monday, Mondays being more sympatico with that feeling.

The End of Things
What was it I lost?
Or left behind?
Or failed to stow
in my velvet handbag?

Who even owns this handbag?
It's so hard to know these days.
My handbag may not be
my handbag at all.

If I slit its lining carefully
might I sew in my memories?
Here are the ends of my dreams,
the solid work hewn of hope.
Here I can hide my destroyed faith.
My despair is in there, too.
More than a little love.

But still!
I have my lovely velvet handbag.
Even though
it is hard to know
who owns it
and its contents
any more
or who really cares
except me
and my velvet handbag.


Copyright © 2019 Bee Smith. All rights reserved.
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