Thursday, July 9, 2015

Kati Short writes

        LOST SPARK

It’s an ethereal thing that
makes you you, me me, him, her.
You can’t see it, yet
it’s in each person you meet,
it’s the part that cannot die
the part that floats into
eternity when time on this
sphere is over. Daddy’s left
first then Mother’s and we cried
then after months of battle
with the devil my own true
love’s crossed over. How many more
could we lose? How could we sing
with such sorrow? Yet how could
we beg sparks of such beauty
to remain in shells that cry
out in such great pain?
Now little sister is but
an ember who has our world.
Love met her at the river
and guided her across
where began the reunion
of the ages. All those sparks,
all those glowing embers, all
those spirits are shining with
the joy of great love today.
My spirit bell rings serenely
as I write.  I know Love and
little sister are near and
reminding me we’ll meet again.

1 comment:

  1. "High poetry" may preoccupy itself with form, meter, rhythm, rhyme, diction, and that us a good thing. But the human value of poetry is its ability to speak from one heart to another heart.


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