Sunday, October 30, 2016

An Unfinished Story







our stories are written inside us
making their way 
up through marrow
exiting through pores
a whisper of skin

did we always know them
or did they drift
inside
with those dreams
passed to you
in utero

i hope you find them
feel them rise inside you
let them see sunlight
learn their names and places
see them dance on the wind

until it is time 
for you to pass them 
on
through blood and bone
gifts of the mother
to us all


copyright/all rights reserved

This feels unfinished--but then I feel in transition somehow--

Posted for Poets United




16 comments:

  1. This is marvelous... the way we have it all inside... like that helix of life

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  2. Those stories do make their way through us. Those times of transition often spark some of our best work.

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    1. Things seem to be percolating again Sherry--I am glad!

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  3. Nice, and yes... let them pass in love and in justice.
    ZQ

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  4. So so true and composed from the heart

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  5. Beautiful, profound and emotive ... moving. Life is an unfinished story, isn't it - especially the life that flows through family. A lot to muse on in this. Lovely writing, Audrey.

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  6. Our stories are written from inside from birth and are nurtured by time and life. we create each chapter whether it be in joy or sorrow they are all part of life and transition.

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  7. I do love our stories. In the end it's all that's left. So we might as well set the record straight.

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  8. Yes surely many are passed on, and then some we make and craft along our way...

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  9. The stories inside of you have guided me for sixty-eight years. I suspect they will continue to do so. :)

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  10. Love this - I guess we all have unborn stories inside of us which are waiting to come out.. they groom us both good and bad ❤️ Beautifully penned. Happy Halloween Audrey ❤️


    Lots of love,
    Sanaa

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  11. Yes, we each have those stories within us, new chapters added each year. So much there in our personal books....some of which no one, except oneself, will read.

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  12. to pass them on
    through blood and bone
    gifts of the mother

    Thus one prolongs the progeny to sustain one's own lineage. And the cycle progresses into the future!

    Hank

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  13. Gifts of talent and such always drift from the parents to the children. Wonderful poetry.

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  14. Absolutely wonderful poetic thoughts. Most creative poetry. Enjoyed this.

    ตารางคะแนน

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