In our palms, small talismans. In our palms, small found objects: a photo, a gemstone, a discarded note. Hand to hand we pass back and forth these tokens as substitutes for love. Here we do not mention the cold – our words are only for our own ears and we ration them carefully.
Once a mute man placed a lotus flower in my hair, walked away. Once somebody’s mother took the earrings she was wearing, threaded them through my lobes. We share no common language of words. We make do. We better than make do.
Lotus by Roberta Lawson
Filed under Roberta Lawson
8 responses to “Lotus by Roberta Lawson”
Lovely. Especially those last lines. We better than make do.
I find it interesting we both have the same title this week. Peace…
Thank you, Linda. That’s interesting to me too. The image of lotus flowers keeps popping up lately for me.
me too! and orchids. subconscious at work – yay! peace…
Nicely done. Great imagery.
Two lotuses in a row…how often does that happen. Unless, of course, you are in Bali!
This is gorgeous, lush and so pared down in quite a special manner.
Lovely world you’ve created here, Roberta, where gemstones and lotus blossoms are held in less value than words. Nice.
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