suspended lies a pregnant brush
hanging in the air
though it is not spoken of
we both know it is there
united by The chasm
a steep one that divides
eyes fixed upon the brush
for the hope that it provides
the brush is not a bridge
it cannot heal the soul
still we reach with broken hearts
longing to be whole
2 comments:
I love the title- I didn't know what the word meant, but now that I do it totally informs my reading of the poem and understanding of the last section, "the brush is not a bridge..."
Really amazingly true poem. I really appreciate it and appreciate you sharing it.
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