When the heart


I will ignore the black and bitter,

watch the moon,

silver light on the rain-dripping roses,

and let the hushed rain-patter

become distant footsteps,


and I will send

a thousand petalled, feathered words,

silent as sympathy,

and the way the grey dove

leans in to her mate.


These are ugly days and days of beauty,

foulness filtered through light,

beauty marred by misery,

grief rocks the world to the core,

fissuring my heart.


Watch the moon, she says,

not the red sunset, and remember,

looking into the cool ocean depths of sky,

who we once were

and perhaps still are.

Published by

Jane Dougherty

I used to do lots of things I didn't much enjoy. Now I am officially a writer. It's what I always wanted to be.

17 thoughts on “When the heart”

  1. That last stanza holds me.
    The Oracle had a harsher tone with me this week. But then the cops are still beating up anyone they can find an excuse for hitting here. (K)

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