(journey Inwards) Forecast Poem by Janice Windle
(journey Inwards) Forecast
We made masks of each other.
Each lay still under the tender fingers
of the other, felt the plaster grip
the hairline, tighten on the greased skin,
felt the gentle hands mould and caress
until with a grimace we released the cast
and each held our own face in our hands.
They lie drying side by side
on the June grass;
we recognise each other
but not ourselves
in these grave images.
One day one of us will view the other
as still as this, as quiet, as white,
will cry tears of unbelieving pain,
demand the right to hold again
their living lover's face, ask
why that vibrant self has gone,
and all that's left's a pale and static mask.
One day one of us will view the other as still as this, as quiet, as white, will cry tears of unbelieving pain, demand the right to hold again their living lover's face, ask why that vibrant self has gone, and all that's left's a pale and static mask. The cold bitter reality one has to face and go through. Good poem, Janice. Regards Naseer
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
I would like to translate this poem
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4/27/2024 3:07:36 AM # 1.0.0.1119
Fantastic title, such an intelligent play on words. The reality of the present and the emotional and spiritual of the future and past are all reflected in the masks - artistic genius! S :)