Spilling Light

2 Comments

Tags:
  • Thoughts
    • ,
  • Loss
    • ,
  • Broken
    • ,
  • Observation

    Spilling Light

     Sometimes
    I see how broken I am.
    I know, I know...
    it's the broken spots
    spilling the light.
    It's the cracks
    where we get to glow...
    beauty in the common dark.

    Sometimes
    the brokenness is all I see.
    I feel deeply
    every flaw,
    each raised white scar...
    and then
    all I know
    is I am not whole, complete.

    I know
    how to be happy
    in the quiet, shaded places
    of my life.
    I can hum along
    delighting
    in a simple beauty,
    curling like a mist through my life.

    I can
    gently heal through
    breath and thought,
    the rough edges
    the torn and muddy tangles...
    easing impossible knots
    to silken strands in easy steps.

    But sometimes,
    even so,
    all I can see is how broken
    and inadequate,
    how fragile I am
    and I remember
    the scars I carry ever on.

    Bloomingsun

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    Marsink commented on Spilling Light

    05-17-2012

    I love your phrasing and sensitivity portrayed in these choice words. A lovely insight to your mind's ponderings and well-expressed in metaphor and imagery!
    Reply to Comment

    bloomingsun

    05/17/2012

    Thank you, it is so great to hear from a few poet friends on this. I appreciate your reading and comment! Peace...

    blackfootlady commented on Spilling Light

    04-26-2012

    We All have scars from Our Past.This is a very nice Peace.I hope You keep writing.Love heals All things.Letting Go and Letting God seems to help Me. I really identify with the open wounds.Life isn't the easiest thing Sometimes.Saying You matter is what really counts.It gives Us All something to work with...Your Friend,Blackfootlady P.S. God Bless.
    Reply to Comment

    bloomingsun

    04/27/2012

    Thanks so much for your time in reading and commenting. It is so nice to hear the voice of another in regard to writings. I am grateful. Hopefully there will be a few more voices still echoing around here... Peace!

    A poem begins as a lump in the throat, a sense of wrong, a homesickness, a lovesickness. It finds the thought and the thought finds the words.

    Robert Frost (1875-1963) American Poet.

    bloomingsun’s Poems (29)

    Title Comments Submitted
    Title Comments Submitted
    Spilling Light 2 04/05/2012
    Delivery 2 10/17/2010
    Gathering Light 9 05/18/2010
    Spring Haiku 2 05/18/2010
    Touchstone 5 04/18/2010
    Promises 1 04/18/2010
    Let Us See 4 04/18/2010
    Summary 3 04/18/2010
    Gift 7 02/23/2010
    Plea for Peace; a villanelle 7 02/23/2010
    Her Escape 16 01/11/2010
    Confession 7 12/31/2009
    Out of Our Hands 7 12/31/2009
    Child of Longing 6 12/27/2009
    Wait 5 12/26/2009
    Advent 13 12/10/2009
    haiku 7 12/04/2009
    Beach 8 12/02/2009
    Vows 4 12/02/2009
    Let Down Again 4 12/02/2009
    Just Thinking 3 11/17/2009
    Muse 3 11/17/2009
    Blossoms 3 11/16/2009
    The Power of a Flower 5 11/16/2009
    Heaven's Beach 8 11/02/2009
    Her Heart 2 11/02/2009
    Renewal 5 08/31/2009
    breaking 6 08/31/2009
    Morning on the Dock 9 11/10/2009
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