“Kiss me and you will see how important I am.”
Life is a solitary wound,
a forbidden door that sometimes opens.
Listen to the silence —
but always with tenderness.
Talk about death
with phrases of ash,
without prayers.
And if she takes your hand
in hers, so cold...
say her name without stuttering:
I am Sylvia.
Free from the smell of hospitals
and the cries of the asylum.
Thank you for giving me a voice
to sing in the afterlife.
(Tribute to Sylvia Plath, American poet and writer — 1932–1963)
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Author:
Ellen (Pseudonym) (
Offline) - Published: July 29th, 2025 09:54
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 4
- Users favorite of this poem: Cheeky Missy, Lorenz
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Comments2
Very, very lovely and wonderfully evocative, delicately rendered to effect, leaving a breathless sense in its wake as if a bodiless presence has sifted through in the perusal. Yet wherefore the preoccupation and cultish worship of Sylvia Plath? Someday perhaps I'll understand. Presently I've other, more ancient poets and poetesses I'm fond of, yet in love with none as aught is merely a fallible person. Thank you so very much for sharing. I love it.
Moving tribute ! I send a kiss and a fav !
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