Posted by: facetothewind | February 25, 2015

Prisms of My Past Life


Prisms of My Past Life

A poem by January Handl • photo by David Gilmore

I have been fractured
By the exquisite knife edge
Of love’s sharp blade
And all the wholeness I build,
Or march toward
Eludes me
While whispering promises
Of rest and peace.

I raise my voice in anguish
Trying to drown out
The despair’s high pitched
Keening wail
And realize my cries for help
Aren’t heard because
I haven’t released them
From my heart

What I know disappears
And I am forced to stand
In the shifting sands
Of the unknowable

And the light
That I thought
My crystalline
shimmering selfhood
was actually,
always and



  1. beautiful pairing dear one. love j

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