News of: Codicils
Too many things
one must know -- so many --
a place on the breath for each? each passing?
(its turning -- breath's inmost
turning, my Love --
for delight -- )
'massacre of the innocents.'
And that there is a form
even for that.
tidal -- ardor... fervor... horror... as moon --
There was a moment
of blessing, calm.
Though it was a pause, a hiatus.
'... then what felt like a whirlwind
had risen up
in me, such that
little was spared.'
the unbearable, happening.
Breath saying Now, now.
Read this poem in other languages
This poem has not been translated into any other language yet.
Comments about this poem (News of: Codicils by Carol Snow )
- Thando unjani, senzokhaya umhayi
- Sweet And Lovely Words, Edward Kofi Louis
- Engimthadayo, senzokhaya umhayi
- Underground Poet, senzokhaya umhayi
- Le Mfihlo yethu, senzokhaya umhayi
- chat up, lee fones
- Imizwa kaMakhwapheni, senzokhaya umhayi
- Ngivumele ngihambe, senzokhaya umhayi
- Into The Pocket, Edward Kofi Louis
- Umhayele Izinkondlo ezimnandi, senzokhaya umhayi