By Grace
The breath by grace
drawn down
through the wind,
continuous the movement.
A baby born new
held swaddled in a loving
mothers gentle embrace.
Or perhaps it was harder
than that
and you were the one
dropped down
on the ragged ground.
To reach out,
to take hold,
to suck on life’s bitter tit.
Continuous the movement,
the breath by grace
drawn down
through the wind.
Poet and storyteller Edward Alexander lives in a small town close to Austin, Texas where he writes and makes furniture of his own designs. His short stories have been published recently by Black Lantern Publishing, Lady Ink Magazine, 34th Parallel and poetry by The Mas Tequila Review, The Chaffey Review and Poets River Jounral.
The breath by grace
drawn down
through the wind,
continuous the movement.
A baby born new
held swaddled in a loving
mothers gentle embrace.
Or perhaps it was harder
than that
and you were the one
dropped down
on the ragged ground.
To reach out,
to take hold,
to suck on life’s bitter tit.
Continuous the movement,
the breath by grace
drawn down
through the wind.
Poet and storyteller Edward Alexander lives in a small town close to Austin, Texas where he writes and makes furniture of his own designs. His short stories have been published recently by Black Lantern Publishing, Lady Ink Magazine, 34th Parallel and poetry by The Mas Tequila Review, The Chaffey Review and Poets River Jounral.