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Poetry by Reanna Marchman: "Illuminate Part I: Light and Breath; Part II: Reflection"; and "Four Years and Counting"

September 7, 2016

 

 

 

ILLUMINATE

 

Part I: Light and Breath

 

Let’s all

reach out touch a

Non-loved face, light, the eye

Breathe sky

Love the dirty and raspy breath of

Tony- holding his sign

His ripped coat, face leather

stench of urine, or just skin

Untouched by water/

Soap a commodity, a luxury

Granted- I take it

Water that falls from sky

out of pipe and little holes

Scream- normal, no rich

It screams rich

Rich like chocolate cheese cake

Like gold watch-wrist

Don’t touch                                   close

Five feet

Accepted      like

    Chapsticked lips Makeuped eyes

Do you see it?

                       Far

Off from us there is

    In sky  

        Light

I can’t reach        you          us.

 

 

Part II: Reflection

 

    Moon a reflection, a shadow

    A dirt ridden

    Are you there?

    Is it safe?

    To turn and walk towards a new

day

    Leave behind craters

    Of non-gravity

    Walk away/ look away

    From the little girl in the pink

hoodie

    Standing in line

    Soup kitchen

    Or the naked African boy crawling

    In dirt

    Bones breaking with each

    Look up dark or light

    Shining is it?

    Am I?     Ignoring

    Look a BMW hood

    Reflecting my face

    Ashamed

        I am I say through pursed lips

    I see with eyes

        Scream

               mouth wet with salt

    hope with light I’ll see where

             I step

             And     float.

 

 

 

Four Years and Counting

 

 

 

My bed was stolen and taken out the back sliding glass door

Why don’t you want me?

A cry fading to a whisper

A background noise blending into the desert

         it joins the swirling wind and

                 creates a tornado

consuming the past and present

it reaches a still     pond

              The tornado vanishes…

Among the water’s peaceful solitude

                                                              silence   

Gently the pond

FillS to brim and over

                                 flows

t  r  i  c  k  l  

            e

                  s

           and becomes a mighty river

Spreading through the dry

                                             Desert

Me

a

wanderer

 

                      I follow

 

New life springs up         a tree on a hill grows        a silhouette stands beside

I climb up and grasp the ripened fruit     pluck it from a low branch

            and hand it back


 

 

© Reanna Marchman

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