Quag(mire) kinfolk
the girl in the marsh was me
when I was small and we were lost
I left the hurt there in the marsh
to be cleansed by mists
(to be) wavering weeds
the girl in the marsh was me
and I was younger then but
not so young
as to meet dread for the first time
he and I walked alongside
grassy heaps
and ferried our secrets
the girl(in) the marsh was me
I left her there to wait on my return…
the marsh, she knew all
about the low hanging fog
and the weight
of water
in the
quag
–ECW
This is a great poem; very moving & well done. 👍👍
Reblogged this on Mega B0SS and commented:
Awesome poem