The Drafted Stream

          
          

Returning to the fields
to lay down
one last time
in the soft beauty
that once held me.
My fall this time
will be felt inside
the land unendingly.
Here where it meets
the sky on the horizon
capturing me between.
I am born here
so naturally
here released.
          
          
The feathering wheat
lifts its face to the
strange and
final quiet
taking me along
in its silent
wind-drawn wake.
          
          
Before the jarring snap
my broken listless sigh
I hear kind words
spoken over
a lifetime.
A compendium of
language and love
I leave behind
except slivers of
the most sweet
I take to the open
unknown peace.
          
          
I sleep in the glinted barrel
give in to the drafted stream.
          
          
With a graceful spin
diaphanous white
my dancer body drops
conforming to the
cradle of the land.
          
          
A blanket over
my eyes
the wheat’s caress
will be
a stunning release
into finality.
          
          

pink

Published by Marie Marchand

Poetry for me has always been a seeking. Always. An effort to come closer to beauty, to explicate beauty, to behold it in words. I wish to formalize beauty, to give it a title and empower it to go forth into the world. I want to give it shape and lend it the capacity for remembrance. Poetry captures essence. Without essence, there is nothing worth saving. John Keats and William Wordsworth are my favorite poets. My absolute favorite poem to read aloud is Wordsworth's Lines, otherwise referred to as Tintern Abbey. And it must be read aloud at least annually for uplift of the soul. I have shared my poetry through various means including handmade chapbooks, readings, and publication. All the poetry posted on this site is written and copyrighted by me. This collection represents about half of my poetry.