Emotions spread across the breadth of our tabula as we search for the erasure of despair. Seeking rescue of our hearts from the bonds of disappointment. The scars always remain of course, the wispy recollections of what was instead of what we dreamed for and sought. A poem that reaches deeply into my psyche and touches my heart with compassion Axilea. Peace health and happiness to you. Jon Michael

The purging of the used and learned lessons are necessary, as you so incisively express, in order for new questions to be considered and unheard answers to be thought upon. Far too few people embrace this "paradox of life" that does at times necessitate reconsideration as to what is truly sweet and what is truly sour. Yin and Yang require space in order to commingle in their task of presenting this paradox you speak of. Bravo.

That is a deep kind of love, and one deep kind of pain being torn apart. The description of that separation gave me sensations of real pain, and if aa person could imagine such a segregation, it is made easier by your poetic thoughts here. I imagine myself in a garden watching a cat scratching at the soil in search of a worm or a rodent, perhaps at her own mites or fleas, and thinking, that’s just like me, entering fall reluctantly. I hope your summer was as blessed as the poem suggests, and may your fall bring on such a fest of love that you won’t have room in your heart for the sheer depth and quantity of it! Here’s to summer! What a love she was, wasn’t she? —Charlie

Powerful, even if the imagery is still a bit diffuse, seen through my own filters of perception. Everything that screams up from under my own Stygian depths of Schopenhauer style illogical negativism says "Yes! Yes! Yes!".

It's almost as though you have taken the summer to do your mental spring cleaning. I certainly hope disengage the symptom from the cause before it all becomes too overwhelming. I love the way you put the words together to express it.

Ron

I'm not sure what all of this meant, but it was an interesting and enjoyable read.

Ahhh . . . I think these are the telling lines . . .

"I am writing letters / To eyes that can no longer read:"

I get from your poem of angst that a loved one has passed away and she is having great difficulty dealing with it. Whatever your true meaning I quite enjoyed reading it.

One of the delightful mysteries of poetic expression is how uniquely wired each of us are. Certainly one paradox in life/reality (IMO) is that no image is as compelling, for a poet, as the one which exists only in the minds eye. As always, your verse encourages thought. Thanks. r

I love summer, and this piece pulls me very close to the next season.

I love your images here Axilea. Your verses awaken deep emotions within me as I can relate completely... ...but you have expressed it most eloquently and meaningfully. Thank you for sharing. Love, peace, and best wishes to you,

Regis