Cinder Block

          
          

In what life do all clouds
coalesce into one
so we must not guess
at their metamorphosis
but see without mesmery
the genesis, the direction
of life indefinitely
reflected wholly in
the open sky?
How to let go of
wailing and seeking?
          
          
Humans seek in vain!
Lost forever in the
dusky gloam of endless tides
pulling us under
to where there is
no being found
ankles tied to
cinder block with
invincible knots.
Everywhere a gangster.
Everywhere a gangster
out to do bad.
No redemption in the heat
for us, no point in trying.
No point.
          
          
Poetry redeems.
The moment I stop believing this,
gone will be all my breaths
across time to the
final horizon where,
motioning towards the edge,
I whisper “Fly.”

          
          

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.