Far, far from the Eagle’s perch
Between cragged rocks
And beating waters
There is
An imperceptible unclenching
A leisurely unclasping
A fist first
A locket last
Between cragged rocks
And beating waters
There is
An imperceptible unclenching
A leisurely unclasping
A fist first
A locket last
All of it
Noiseless drama
In a grey-mirrored theatre
Summer, mon cher, rains on Wintered moorings
And the difference is known only within.
“Emile. There it is; his name…But that’s not it. Not at all. This is how it was.”
Sylvia Plath
4 replies on “Mon cher Emile”
>Aasia I think Noojie meant Johari's "window" 😉
>nooj…whats a wondow! Sounds xrated!
>The eagle's perch. What a good descrption for the facade dimension of our Johari's wondow
>Ah. I loved this, so perfectly describes the internal feelings, and we hope that doesn't show on the exterior!