Beyond Reach
 
No cold spots here
 
    …such feelings have been ripped out
like a Victorian kitchen,
exposing words on walls,
lids rolled from jam pots,
hollow voices over floorboards
and dust gasping for air,
waiting, always waiting
for a reality unlike a vision.
A reality moving candles
stilled by a wooden rosary
then sounding an alarm
long since disconnected
as if trying to defy the rosary
when you had more to say.
So I’ll call it unexplained
and turn away to ponder
upon the whom and not the what –
yes, your life may be past
but the pendulum is here
waiting, always waiting
for you to make its move
and there is still time……

some say I need only believe.

Susan Wilson

If you have any thoughts about this poem,  Susan Wilson  would like to hear them