Gesture Poem by Winifred Welles
Gesture
My arms were always quiet,
Close and never freed,
I was furled like a banner,
Enfolded like a seed.
I thought, when Love shall strike me,
Each arm will start and spring,
Unloosen like a petal,
And open like a wing.
Oh Love — my arms are lifted,
But not to sway and toss,
They strain out wide and wounded
Like arms upon a cross.
Saturday, September 18, 2010
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5/13/2024 11:13:39 AM # 1.0.0.1119
