Friday, November 1, 2013


While pierced with the pain of missing my sister, I wrote this poem.

With stealth, grief prowls
in the shadows of my mind
like a hunter

For just the right moment
to release its arrow
from a tightly strung bow
to pierce my consciousness
mid stride
    I falter
            bite my lip and turn away

to hide my tears
and falling face
until I can smile again,
shoving back memory's dart
and spurning it's bold sting
    and proclaim
            I am fine

Except in the shadows of my mind.

Janet Muirhead Hill

No comments:

Post a Comment