Fragile – a poem by Paul Vincent Cannon


Photo: Life in the midst of death, one of the many eucalypts known as blackbutt – the bark at the base being darker or black. This particular tree is fighting for its life. Taken at Niagara on a trail walk.

“The poetry of the earth is never dead.” John Keats.


Recursive fade,
neglect by stealth,
the ache of desolation,
days poured out in exile,
layers stripped bare
revealing the pain of
inner beauty that has 
been life's weeping,
arriving as resurrection 
without stained glass 
language or tired ceremony
to gloss the moment of this
fragile and vulnerable
exposure of mystery.

Copyright 2021 ©Paul Vincent Cannon
All Rights Reserved ®

View original post

Categories: Uncategorized

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s