painted the day with palaces

February 6, 2009

bathing in light
and i. what dreams had i suspended
above our short order lives
when death showered you with bells.
        call her back for me
        bells. call back this memory
        still fresh with cactus pain.

-sonia sanchez
from “kwa mama zetu waliotuzaa”

I’m finding that I have distinct and specific attatchments to some certain images. Like the effects of sunlight captured well in a photograph. Or the image of a bell ringing  through the words of a poem. Or anything that looks or sounds like peace. And I only noticed these motifs because they stare at me through the picture and word images I save so I can return to them later.

I’ve jotted down my thoughts with little consistency and some organization for most of my life. I return to read the books I’ve filled with my words occasionally, and in them I discover motifs to my life that I never would have discovered had I not written them down. It’s a secret value of words that can only be found when pieces of life become a book or poem.

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