Forgive. Forgive.

Forgive. Forgive.
La figlia. The liar.
Didn’t I die by this road?
A stupid prayer rests through the patchouli and roses
upon my thumb,
I’d see the leaves swept away like baby Moses.

I leave to not remember;
flowers of tall envy
insomnia in my head
for the doppelgänger in me
with her first breath, saying

I alternate 
I tell the pillows you’re insane;
to find a code in the distant mountains
where they once smothered your mind,
it’s torn between the thread  of bad dreams and good dreams
whichever comes first; each word
I hide like the sleeping bluebird.

But I’m here
remembering laughter in seven hills
the all death voltage

in the clouds
when it’s vanished

my father howled with his knees
and we walked, stuffed with who was mad first
probably who loved last.

© 2021 All Rights Reserved.

Written for the 6/28/2021 Earthweal prompt: When it all feels too much to bear, where do you turn for comfort and peace in your corner of the world? What part of the natural world do you visit for connection with the bigger picture, so much vaster than the human lens we have imposed on it? Is it a river? A lake? A forest? The mountains? The sea? Tell us about it.

32 thoughts on “Forgive. Forgive.”

  1. I love “I leave to not remember,” and finding a code in the distant mountains. LOVE “But I’m here remembering laughter in seven hills.” Your closing stanza is especially wonderful. Glad you found your way to earthweal. Smiles.

    Liked by 5 people

  2. Your words never fail to pierce deep. They both drown and resurrect. Drown as they evoke the deeply buried sorrow. Resurrect for they offer a sense of cleanse and closure. Thank you for sharing your mind and soul through your brilliantly weaved poetry. ❤️

    Liked by 5 people

    1. I’d agree with that. I feel like you must go through the harshest storm before being able to forgive what caused it. Thank you so very much, Brendan, for your thoughts and feedback. Always appreciated! 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Forgive. Forgive.
    These two words are imprinted in my mind now, running as questions, as pleas, as statements, and as demands. I love how viral your imagery is and how destructive it is; staring the emptiness of something in the face is as devastating as it is poignant. Lovely!

    Liked by 4 people

  4. your poetry truly transports me, Lucy… and it feels like the sort of poetry that transports all of your readers to different places. like a magical, uncontrollable portal that marks the beginning of an adventure.


    Liked by 2 people

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