The Resting
The resting rest
was a test
at best
but what arose
in pain
far from gain
achieved nothing
but sluggish draw of mood
and pen finger key
a reach to pull up
to stand
with hand
and TWO feet
but on page
more in quested hope
was needed
but did not come
and here
remains the pale
the drifting words
of a mind
trying to find its way back again
a walk for the first
time
a climb
hardly sublime
but true
in struggle
all of it
yet to be created
and
set forth.
Paula Antonello Moore, Prose poetry. Copyright: Tuesday, March 28, 2017.
Image: By Hernan Sanchez from Unsplash.
Love it! You have such a way to describe a moment/image!
Thank you. Poetry is the best means.