Rhonda Morrison FREELANCE WRITER AND PROFESSOR
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Softening

July 22, 2020

Softening

Within the world’s troubled color I awaken,
pushing through the gates of sunrise,
the tense night pictures 
disappearing inside me.
I fight the knot forming inside,
the ropy chord after its own blood,
my muscles taut as clockwork,
And I soften.

 

I go outside and sit with my dog,
and drink my coffee beneath the clouds
littering the lawn.
She licks my hand for comfort,
time is of no concern to her.

 

I start to bloom.
My colors melt and run
and I hear the vocal struts of the birds,
as they pulse the stirring air.
I day dream of swimming through a river,
running water glittering through my hair,
as if the water was singing to me 
and I was bottomless too.
The ohm of the day
like roses damp 
with half forgotten rain.

 

Just bend a little 
I tell myself,
just breathe in the sun.
Look long enough beneath the surface,
and you will find connections everywhere.

Then you can move forward
with the day.

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Recent Posts

  • The Center Cannot Hold
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  • Softening
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  • Dark Days

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Latest Posts

The Center Cannot Hold

July 24, 2020

Parasite

July 24, 2020

Softening

July 22, 2020

Sitting Behind

July 22, 2020

Dark Days

July 22, 2020

Awakening

July 22, 2020

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