A poem with audio

Joseph Mallord William Turner, Bamburgh Castle, Northumberland



A familiar dewy moistness
decorates the tips
of my eyelashes,

my cheeks,
damp and salty,
my face, neck, chest,
glisten and sparkle
with droplets
still fading.

My heart thawed
and there was a great
a kind of a storm,

the pain of life has been
washed away, for now at least
I am cleansed and renewed,
I am the me that moves forward,
happy like Sisyphus.


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