Poetry Friday

by

Today’s poem was submitted to me via the Guest Blog Post link and I cried at the exquisiteness of the words as I read them.  It is a real honor to share something so intimate and beautiful with you today.

 ekijati

I miss my breast
in evenings
when lonliness rises.

The numb, shallow place
feels odd
tight and skin-stretched
taught above inhale

I rub herbal balm
onto bruised skin
calendula, comfrey, plantian, and self-heal,
I need a ten-gallon drum of the stuff
to dive right into.

Om gate
gone, gone altogether
altogether gone

least I got to breastfeed daughters as babies
on both sides …
Gratitude for that

Found gratitude
to compare early death
loss of limb, or eye or memory
with the little loss

of
one
perfect
breast.

~Julie Kostuch~

Category : Poetry