I can’t stop thinking about Sylvia Plath’s poem, Firesong, posted earlier today.
This chunk of it sums up for me this week. Plath uses words that wake me up. If I tried to say it, I would end up filling an entire page trying to find words like this. This is the gift of poets! They find for us the words that evoke the most banest of our emotions and we feel. I FEEL!
brave love, dream
not of staunching such strict flame, but come,
lean to my wound; burn on, burn on.
Good night, blog friends.