clutching my child to my bosom, her hands, the exact temperature of possibility in contrast with mine, which is worn warm.
and I am covered in pitiful tears and the sweat of stagnation; these are his blessings. This is the birthing moment:
I am in delivery; from my back I feel the tortured wings sprouting, pallid, damp with an amniotic type of liquid, sticky and sickeningly sweet smelling... ..still, sprouting.
Pushing and being pushed. Strains of "Hallelujah" are clouding the air.I am crying and finally free of the restriction of my Intent.
tears rain a warm storm over my
blackened lips.
I am;
finally.
"An Image is that which presents an intellectual & emotional complexity in an instant of time". -- Ezra Pound
the ending seems like a true realization for the said character. a potent way to complete this poem... these lines:
the exact temperature of possibility in contrast with mine, which is worn warm.
and I am covered in pitiful tears and the sweat of stagnation; these are his blessings. This is the birthing moment:
I am in delivery; from my back I feel the tortured wings sprouting, pallid, damp with an amniotic type of liquid, sticky and sickeningly sweet smelling... ..still, sprouting.
Pushing and being pushed. Strains of "Hallelujah" are clouding the air.I am crying and finally free of the restriction of my Intent
are definitely where it's at... Good to see you around again.
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