Palm Sunday

hands 4
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Sit bones settle uneasy
on ground glass and razor shells.
Eyes fix on unexpected horizon
 

kinked and wavering in the heat
of a new reality; the once sharp line
between blue and bluer now bunched
 

and caffled in blurred uncertainty.
Parallel gazes, oblivious, until hands
scrabble soft in deep, white sand,
 

fingers and thumbs sifting possibilities,
seeking equilibrium – finding it
in the upturned palm of another.
 
 

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1 Comment

Filed under Free Verse, Poetry

One response to “Palm Sunday

  1. I can’t believe I haven’t been following you till now Julie! xo

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