Longing

 

Longing

Beyond the lonely light of the moon

I witness all that is quiet,

and my fingers,

familiar with beaded bone,

wish this was my ordinary,

this temporary oasis before stretch of day.

Wish I could join the dance,

let moon become my friend again,

for a glimpse at water's edge,

of blessings,

of beautiful melodies,

all without a hint of subterfuge,

where newfound desire to shine

would be appreciated,

gifting me with freedom, with life;

for service, not idolatry.

Yet, of the sweet, stubborn, and selfish,

some things never change.

by Margaret Bednar, December 1, 2022

This is written for the challenge over at: dVerse MTB (meeting the bar): In my end is my beginning.  Take ending lines of your most recent poetry (at least 12) and create a new poem.  Lines must remain intact, but can be placed in any order, may add preposition, conjunction, and change tense.  Enjambment is allowed.  

I looked at about 30 of my most recent poems and selected ending lines from 16.

THIS WAS NOT EASY!  (beaded bone = rosary)