"Words Fly Out"
Under the hunger of the night sky,
black pages of night fly open.
Words spill into the chaos
of my cluttered mind,
filled with the din of duties,
wants, shoulds, and shouldn'ts.
Far away, barely visible,
a small ribbon of road,
mapped perhaps by words
I've spoken, but not owned,
turns off into the deeper dark.
To find my way, I trace penumbras
made by trees and light,
unformed shapes cloaked
in filigrees of shadow,
broken words strewn across a blank path.
Images without words play across my retina
beyond focus, beyond distinction
of light and dark,
color and no color,
edges and no edges.
Might I embrace
the broken arc of lightning,
the throb and ache of thunder,
whip of wind, the lonely drip of rain,
a new tongue?
Words burn upward into day,
churning in the eye of afternoon.
I hold within myself
their heat; whole sentences
race through my head.
Evening again: a bridge of sun
smeared to crimson streaks,
across a sky not so much
angry as alive.
Blessings gather in my mind.
The peerless road, its map, and no road
beyond moteless clarity, recedes--
walls of the landscape resume.
Eyes adjust. I regain balance.
Under the hunger of the night sky,
I walk alone savoring the comfort of words
stories that give purchase
provide a way to go.
Cordelia Hanemann, writer and artist, currently co-hosts Summer Poets, a poetry critique group in Raleigh, NC. Professor emerita retired English professor, she conducts occasional poetry workshops and is active with youth poetry in the North Carolina Poetry Society. She is also a botanical illustrator and lover of all things botanical. She has published in numerous journals including, Atlanta Review, Laurel Review, and California Review; in several anthologies including best-selling Poems for the Ukraine and her chapbook. Her poems have been performed by the Strand Project, featured in select journals, won awards and been nominated for Pushcarts. She is now working on a novel about her Cajun roots.
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