Tag Archives: Poetry

Hospital Time

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in silence

is solace

is healing

.

in silence

sleeps comes

taking me places

.

while my healing

is weaved inside

my wounded body

.

silence is planning

my next steps to

warn off the enemy

.

that came inside

as shift as a thief

the cancerous cells

.

Children Asleep

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how many times

have I tried to

describe the

feeling of

tenderness

arising in me

in a poem

.

as I walked the

garden at night

at dusk or through

cloudy days when

your little heads

are reclined all

closed down as

.

children asleep

.

the daisies would

not hear me

nearing them

a motherless

woman being

the greatest

mother of all

.

The Great Unknown

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*

the great unknown

isn’t death I fear

to do harm to my body

this I fear indeed

to make poor choices

given what others say

not to discern my best

.

yet surrender

like a fish’s body in

stormy waters.

.

⁃ for what I know

.

that may be safe

to let the invisible pull me

while trusting fate

.

Light

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*

approaching the day
with dancing
thoughts

to linger in god’s
presence
light

that stays with me
at night
and in my slumber

.

.

hipstamaticphoto-536258305.451797-1

.

This poem is part of the published collection California Notebooks 02

Black Rim

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I walk around my

small land where trees

abound and I have

a restlessness this year

I never had as if

my garden and I have lost

communication

.

but I attend the land a lot

.

I sit waiting as at

the bed of a sick child to

whom nobody hands

water exhausted

I tighten my hands one

with the other in

silent pain I look down

.

to the aging skin

to the black rim under

my nails its dirt

sticking to me my garden’s

way to hold onto me

.

.

February 1st 2022

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as I contemplate

morning light peaking

through cold mornings

.

it’s the sound of the wind

running low on the streets

that gets my attention

.

getting distracted

following fast

moving

.

dried leaves

rustling through

disappearing

.

as dawn catches

up with me

behind my back

.

Here It comes

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Enjoy the visual art work as well

*

here it comes

the first poem of the year

right as the sun

hides low

behind the houses’ roofs

darkness

falls as a wet blanket

piercing

through my winter coat

a soft sound

cracking

on the frozen grass little

cautious

steps as it advances

.

Anna Mosca, Self Portrait, Dec. 2021.