Dancing On A Wish

The back steps in a photograph
hold memories in each wooden plank.
I feel the vibrations of a hundred yesterdays
climb nearly forgotten to reach
a battered screen door where hands
opened and closed years of temporary
with the emphatic hope of escape.

Sitting in the future I listen
to ghosts roaming rooms
I can’t enter and sing
a survival song to the little girl
who still carries the pain of silence.

Quietly I speak,
“I made it to the end of dust.
You are free to go where
the wind doesn’t carry tears.”

Smiling, I look up at the stars
to let imagination watch
the child dancing on a wish.


©Susie Clevenger 2015

Comments

Anonymous said…
Nicely done!
And no more need for silence! Beautiful poem.
Gillena Cox said…
i luv the platform on which you placed the beginning of this poem, it gives a good vantage point to view your thoughts throughout the entire poem

thanks for dropping in to read mine

much love...
Marian said…
Beautiful... love how the last line of the first stanza sets the reader on a different course than the childish lightness of the lines before. Escape... literal and metaphoric.
Sherry Blue Sky said…
Oh, this is so beautiful. It makes me happy to picture that child "dancing on a wish"..
kaykuala said…
You are free to go where
the wind doesn’t carry tears.

That's what we desire most That one should try to avoid occasions that might bring tears of sadness. Free to roam yes, but must be careful. Great lines Susie!

Hank
Anonymous said…
I love that image a child dancing on a wish--so lovely!
ScottlB said…
To let the imagination watch I like that, lovely poem.
Anonymous said…
Ah! Words of Survival. It's never too late to have a happy childhood - a quote from a book called Still Life with Woodpecker by Tom Robbins. A lovely read if you can find the book. It takes courage to tackle a topic like this. Well done.
Anonymous said…
My first comment seem to have disappeared! Ah, a Survival poem! It's a difficult topic to write about. Well done and well written.
This was magical in the best way. Thanks.
Jim said…
I'm glad you wrote this, Susie. It was hard to read, parts of my childhood were filled with unmerited repression. Adulthood, leaving home set me free. Sort of.
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