This is what I remember:
Bird-wing weight in the chest,
beat of prayer, hunger
like honey and dread.
The TV buzz — Joel Olsteen,
Charles Stanley pumping
hope through a cavernous strife.
The way his voice lifted
above the still-loud hum
traveled the line of tangled,
too tired wants.
The stack of words,
tower of nothing
leaning on everything.
Fish hook tongues
dancing, an empty forage,
an ample sliver.
The keepsake “darling,” warm
and copper bright, rafting
across the sea.
The Traveling Light 
Naila – I so love your writing style! Peripherally, I’ve been interested in the poetry of Sylvia Plath, and your word play reminds me of her. …Wondering if she is an inspiration to you?
Have a great BRIGHT day, xo Mo
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Thanks so much, Mo. I am sure I have come across her poems incidentally over the years but I have not really sought out her writing. Now you have me curious. 🙂
Sending you a huge hug!
xoxo
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❤️ Just ❤️
Love you dear friend, and know your dad is watching over you, a lingering angel free and full of peace.
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Thank you so much, dear friend. He’s been in my dreams a lot of late…I’m sure another way he stays close. Love you!
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