eclipse Posted February 20, 2017 Share Posted February 20, 2017 My son was born without the power of speech, the secret police beat me while he was still in the womb. Hassan's bellybutton disappeared as he grew older and he painted a cave of winds (a reference to his family I believe) on a butterflys wings, when Hassan slept a flower grew where his bellybutton used to be and the butterfly would rest on the flower as he slept. The photographs taken of the bombed village we left slept then blinked woken by desert storms hammering the shack. I saw a gun balanced on the flower as Hassan slept and it began to talk of a butterfly choking on the vapours of war and surviving. My thoughts became formless like the wind. I wrote our names on two sheets of paper throwing them into the night like two abandoned wings. Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
Tinker Posted February 20, 2017 Share Posted February 20, 2017 WOW Quote ~~ © ~~ Poems by Judi Van Gorder ~~ For permission to use this work you can write to Tinker1111@icloud.com Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
David W. Parsley Posted March 11, 2017 Share Posted March 11, 2017 Tinker stole my response, but I'll repeat it anyway. WOW. All the imaginative imagery and turns of phrase are there, the sense of wonder that we all can expect from your pieces. But the narrative progression is breathtaking, possessed of a stomach-dropping unity. You step confidently into a country of symbol and image not repeated from your prior work. You take care to craft the piece, so there is nothing to distract the reader from the journey you narrate, its searing and current landscape. Very, very well done! Thank You (I think!), - Dave Quote Link to comment Share on other sites More sharing options...
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