Search
Renewal
- solidfoodpress
- May 21
- 1 min read
by Caroline Allen
I’m looking for
Someplace pure,
Gentle. Somehow
The present poisons
The past, as an
Author’s fate colors
Their work, perfumes
With incense,
Unravels innocence.
We only know
What to avoid
By seeing it, parsing
Whispered warnings,
Wrung out meanings.
And yet, there is
A place within,
A wild, precious
Intersection of
Dying and being
Born recurring,
Simultaneous,
A wide-eyed look,
A clear deep breath,
Cool, flittering,
Like a song
Sparrow in my palm,
Or at least how
I imagine holding
One would be.