Summer of lapsed attention (Day 452)

She cannot undo her summer 

of lapsed attention in exotic 

lands  sledding downhill and

drinking sparkling lime tinged

with juniper  a miraculous 

invisible line of “but” “yet” and 

“though” traces a path from 

forehead to willing heart  

without doubt  without abandon  

mingling with the bitter things 

that make her mouth hard 

to know  the slow travel of 

an ordinary life among the humid 

evening hours  She proceeds 

to talk strikingly about the shame 

of being unfathomable  suspended

on ribbons of blue smoke between 

her previous life and the next

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: Cyprus (public domain)

Her White Whale (Day 389)

shaking her head at the modern world’s distaste 

for promises, she vowed instead to pursue her 

White Whale deep into the indigo mystery

to that end, eyes wide open, she dove headlong

into an icy pool of stars, and broke the surface 

again in a shimmering burst of breath and water

later, sinking into the multi-layered depths of midnight,

she found herself wondering if she wanted to 

awaken from the liquid solitude of dreamless sleep

but a ghostly fluke, like mermaid hair, beckoned, 

and she leaned into the sweet awareness of loving

the precious freedom of being neither here nor there 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: iwona_kellie via Wikimedia

Missing our days (Day 350)

Growing older, is it 

as often about regret 

as it seems?

Nostalgia like an ache, 

missing our days and

our dreams because 

we cannot remember 

how to live 

the way children do? 

Trust me, 

it’s harder 

and easier than 

you know, spending 

your days missing 

other days, when 

all along your roots 

are cracking 

granite, seeking 

sustenance, sinking 

deep into your loamy soil, 

until you are 

bound

to your own time. And 

maybe that is the definition 

of wisdom.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: MaxPixel

Chrysalis (Day 220)

From all sides 

beleaguered  he curls inward 

sea anemone  protecting 

its tender center  

chrysalis  undefended  vulnerable 

somehow valiant in pure 

inevitability  facing down storms  

exposed  yet diffident  

his strategy  detachment 

rolled and coiled 

in deepest dark 

in singular solitude  it begins 

in a crystal spark 

a listless centering  elemental 

listening will be his 

salvation  intuition  the springtime of 

his moist-winged fluttering  

carried aloft 

by a grateful current

(c) 2017, by Hannah Six

Image: msandersmusic