A white tremor hovers
Where the world’s thin places open
Its body is only suggestion
But its crying is real
A soft collapse in the air
A silver ache leaking through the seams
Each tear is a small undoing
A quiet unthreading of the sky
As if sorrow were rewriting light
And when dawn reaches for it
The dove breaks into brightness
Not healed
But glowing with the truth
That some cries
Are older than wings
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Author:
Anthony Hanible (
Offline) - Published: February 24th, 2026 02:40
- Category: Unclassified
- Views: 35
- Users favorite of this poem: Anthony Hanible, sorenbarrett
Offline)
Comments1
This poem is an example of one that must be read in the right mood and several times. Its complexity in brilliant imagery evokes deep buried feelings and like a mantra allow one to settle into a meditative state. Its vagueness aids in this feeling allowing the reader to take it as a tool for multiple tasks, the tool remains the same but its uses are varied. A lovely write and a fave
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