I’ve been intrigued by the idea of a prose poem since I first heard of the form. Not sure I’ve understood the concept, I’m having a go anyway. I’m wanting to capture the essence of a moment.
I shared this first with friends in a closed Facebook group. No one said it sucks. Of course, they may be being kind.
I stand beside my friend, bathed now and wearing a favourite dress, laid on her bed, surrounded by flowers, profoundly still. With no sound or movement I hear her gift: “Life is precious”. I know this already. “No”, she tells me, silent, insistent, “it’s much more precious than that”. My heart is open and her lesson lands without resistance. Watching her shocking stillness, I understand. Life is precious. “And another thing”, I hear from the silence, “you could be a lot more gentle”. I know this is true. But how will I become more gentle? Silence. Incomprehensible stillness.
Copyright © 2016, Mike Wilson