Monday, April 1, 2013



Shadows throw creatures
onto the earth’s surface,

and since the shore wills
itself to disintegrate, the sea

moves, as a bee serves
the flower. The gates

of your body unlatch,
and you are born.


  1. Magnificent, Hannah. So much unsayable said in so few sayings. The purpose of everything does keep spiraling away wonderfully doesn't it? All we know is we are re-born.

    I thought the poem could a little loosening of the line breaks, to better savor and direct the flow.

  2. I just want to say THANK YOU for this suggestion! I originally had space between some of the lines, too, and kept messing with it...thanks much.


The Storialist. All rights reserved. © Maira Gall.