Bequest

 

We have all been promised.

Some are brought to belief, everything becoming dual, accompanied by. Divided, they tread twice, towards and away.

Stranded and narrow, untravelled, we wait.

We are bequeathed firsts, including the first coming to consciousness without.

 

 

2 Comments

Filed under poetic prose and prose poems

2 responses to “Bequest

  1. Left me breathless. Speaks to the illusive quality of grief … where it comes from and where it is going. Beautiful. XO

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