There is an island
Where the egrets nest,
Wild, white ornaments
In flight,
Yet gauche on the graceful
Curves of the branches.
.
It is here that my hope resides,
It’s cacophonous call,
Carried to me
By the on-shore wind.
A cackle that cracks
And slaps over the waves,
Streaking my cheeks
With the sputum
Of spume and spray.
.
And the sand-bridge
That I have so often traversed
To retrieve it
Has been voraciously
Consumed by the tide.
.
© M. G. Iannucci 2016
“…the needy have hope and inequity shuts its mouth” (Job: 5:16).
Photo: Charles Island Milford, CT
I absolutely adored the last stanza! Such beautiful language and sentiment!
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Thank you Rob. Hope is a bird that can fly to you even if you can’t cross. And the tide always comes back in again. That is what a friend told me. I enjoy your blog. It is good when people tell the brave truth about their lives.
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Thanks Maria. I loved the metaphor you built in that piece.
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It is a real place…beautiful. I am happy that you liked it.
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I sure did
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Love your Christmas tree poem! I have one similar to it that I was hesitant to post. You gave me courage. I will post it with a link to yours if that is alright?
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Sure. Always always always post the stuff you’re most hesitant about, it’s usually the best stuff
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You are right…it is the best stuff…real. Thank you for the encouragement.
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Write On Maria!
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😊
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Beautifully written. Thanks for tonight Maria. You lifted me up. I felt rather down in the dumps.
You are a dear friend. X
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I am so glad. It can be a difficult season, the darkness, and the expectations of the “perfect life” (no such thing). Your photos were lovely tonight. 😊
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Lovely description
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Thank you!
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