SuziCate's Musings



I do not know the weight of mud,

the way they say it sucks you down

and throws upon you what you’ve outgrown;

but I do know the weight of blood,

how it ties you to life, to love,

and to people you’ve never known.


I know too well the lapse of days,

the way minutes disappear into years

and the shrinking time leads my fears;

but I do not know if spirit stays

when bound to this plan, to this love

of listening to what the heart hears.


I do not know the flight of bird,

the arc of wing or speed of air

or if he flies without a care;

but I do know the might of word,

whether it was kind and fair

or when spoken pain was spared.


I do not know the stretch of trees,

if their long arms dare to hug the sun

while underground roots continually run;

but I do know the catch of please,

how you are obligated to do or be done

as if you were ever really anyone.


And yet I know the cost of wind,

what is lost when  breath lets go

and that which was will cease to know;

and better, I know the frost of sin

when all bitterness returns to snow.

In the cold, life and love still grow.


Comments on: "Perceptions" (2)

  1. This sounds like an award-winning poem to me. Nice work!

  2. 🙂 Thank you.

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