Walking the Face Lines

Walking the Face Lines

There are a million voices on my face.
Some of them have left exit lines
and small shadows
I hear the words that once hit my cheek
in a mud pie, a slammed door,
spent studies & abandoned stars.
There is the ghost of my best friend
& the low words of a lover
I walk my face lines in the mirror
in curiousity & I interest myself
in the echo of soft baby kisses
and hard slaps.
It is nothing to me to walk miles
on the trail of history
into gentle detours or roughened paths
Sometimes I trace my brow
with my fingers
the way I touched my children
to urge them to sleep
The voices settle into someone I was
at some given moment
that is not the reality of me now,
but still, it is useful
to hear the voices now and then
of that growing girl & wandering woman,
to embark with the hostages
of those other selves
while grasping the wonder of this moment
and the destiny designed for this day.

Reviews

[cest la vie]

Twice in one night I've read outstanding writes from you. This is a testament for our lives lived and yet to live. well done!!

[Ed Hart]

wow!

[Jibey]

A lovely recollection of life's moments, of the times that etch themselves on us and become part of who we are, the being who copes with the present.

[Emily B]

I always wonder how a person could erase the character and the living that marks our faces. I will wear my age like a badge of adventures won, roads travelled, and tears loosed. It is always a pleasure to stop by your page and read your newest offering. I see so much of myself in your words.