Boundaries and Edges Revisited

Time to build a poem together. I’ve picked out several of what I thought were evocative boundaries and edges you all shared. I’d like to have anyone and everyone take this list and add (or delete) whatever is needed to create more connection and more meaning. Feel free to work on what’s posted or devise your own version.

When rage becomes a slap.And the officer at your door removes his cap.
That black wall of rain steadily crosses the open field.
And the sharp crack of the judge’s gavel hits the block, pronouncing you divorced.
You are the front row and he, the stage.
It is the silence after a gunshot

Living living living living living living, dead.
My father’s last breath
The palpable silence
the end of a symphony.
And the doors to the elevator closed
You stand at the top of stairs looking into the darkness of the basement.

The moment you hear you’re pregnant.
When the doctor cuts the umbilical cord and one becomes two.
Pancakes in circles on the hot griddle
And the crunchy crust of artisan bread

12 responses to “Boundaries and Edges Revisited

  1. The words, “Do not go”,
    Pasted on my lips,
    Not letting loose,
    The silence is deafening,
    A rush of tears fall to the floor
    And the doors to the elevator closed.

  2. Strong moment here, Walk. It’s good to hear from you. Try another one!

  3. Outpouring of words in black on a white screen
    Day after day
    Chapter 52 ends
    Story is done
    Re-emerging into daily life
    From the fantasy world in my mind
    Result: good or bad?
    Click send
    Find out

  4. Lots of boundaries crossed here! Black on white. End of Ch. 52. and re-emergence into life. Good/bad? Not knowing, then knowing.
    Bravery: doing versus avoiding.
    Thanks for sharing!

  5. The palpable silence
    After my father’s last breath.
    The end of a symphony,
    Enveloped in death.
    The black wall of rain
    Crossing the dimensions of time.
    No more laughter, also no more pain.
    One last hill to climb,
    No understanding, it is all arcane.
    A warrior going home,
    My hero, my dad.

  6. Can totally relate to this, Walk. Beautifully done.

  7. A darkened doorway
    Palpable silence within the blackness
    My step hesitates
    Afraid to stray from the path of comfort

    Standing before it
    A sharp punch to my stomach
    I peer at the ink and take my last breath before I drown
    The worn path pulls me above water

    As a pane of glass
    Separates out and in
    The blackness keeps me in my place
    A blanket over my soul

    When is the day
    To step from the platform
    Reach into the darkness
    And flood the way with light

  8. I think this poem tells us that this IS the day. I think that blanket of blackness has turned into the words on this page–a way of light. Thanks for sharing this!

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