Weeping skies over the gray country
Mourn all promises the dead cannot keep
And wash away ink from the pages of a recycled soul
Ready again for the printing press
Follow the type from death to birth
Through dawns unrisen and days undone
A borrowed life singing songs of ritual not written
With a voice that once belonged to the wind
And eyes lost in first visions of color
Pouring out of a new-opened sky
Out in the gray country with arms outstretched
It stands, skin bare, feeling raindrops for the first time
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Coming up on the Winter Solstice in a couple of days. What are your thoughts on certain days of the year having some sort of meaning/power that others don’t? I’m not a fan of astrology, but I know many people are!
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Photo by Dương Nhân from Pexels
The Light is On 
10 responses to “The Grey Country”
Your poetry is awe inspiring, truly beautiful words that evoke all sorts of thoughts for me. Love the photography as well. Talented photographer you joined your prose along side of which also makes my head jump to all sorts of places. Thank you. Love ❤️ Joni
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Thanks so much Joni! It’s one of my favorite parts of posting one WordPress when I find a picture that just fits the poem so well. Though reading comments like yours is even better! (:
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It seems fitting that we have our holiday season in December. We need some light on the darkest day of the year–and sometimes it seems like the coldest day of the year too.
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I agree! Winter would be much more dreary without the warmth of the holidays…
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Beautiful poem
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I love the winter solstice, for some reason.
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On certain days people’s attention spans are united to a common communicating theme and when that theme is eternal there is power at chemistry…peace and the celebration of knowing. Something is understandable to you already about this.
This poem about a person that becomes separated from Always is describing something that happens inside what I know to call the elevator shaft – a dimension for non appreciating change. Not interesting, but necessary for some to understand how they are alive and conscious to part of something not participating at knowledge or celebration.
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Hmm… interesting to think about how we could be involved in something simply through our existence and outside our conscience experience.
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Love the alliteration in your poetry!
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Thank you (:
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