Hands reach to hold
As the soul soars high
Pulling at the tendrils
That hang from its feet
...
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They remain below here To wait in restlessness Rachel Ann Butler
Superb write Fi, 'Pulling at the tendrils, That hang from its feet' it's hard to let go and still harder to say ' go in peace' - Cindy
Wooosh! For a moment there, when i read the title, i thought you had ventured intomthe field of Cardio-Thoracics...lol! ...Souls are never left behind, yet graves are still home...but they are for we, the grieving bodies.Well Done, lass! F j R
with open heart, what follows next are open arms... nice imagery fiona.
A very meaningful poem Fiona. 'Hands reach to old as the soul soars high pulling at the tendrils that hang from its feet'. And the last stanza is works so well too! Top marks. love Karin