Chords
On a long day’s journey
south to Cartagena
on lonely hills
and empty roads
and sheets of autumn rain
I thought about your hands
the ones you fear
look just like a man’s.
Do you know that in
my eyes your hands are
wings and lips and
often flames and
sometimes roots
ten white stalks that
burrow through the sleeping
earth in search of light?
All through the night black
winds hissed against the
window near my bed.
In the clear blue light of
morning I woke
from dreams
of thorns and snow
to see red blooms
outside the window, to
hear the songs of birds
in the throats of blossoms
and feel the petals tumble
from my own mouth
like prayers
into your hands.
© J. M. Keating 2026
-
- *
More thoughts and images at:
☛ My website JohnMichaelKeating.com (link in bio)
☛ My book Double Vision, Waking Dreams (see website)