Poetry of Love, Resistance, & Solidarity

Propelled by the power of loss, we drive
until black streets crossing green lawns
give way to open space,

to a place where the freshly bruised cheek
of the sky at dusk, swollen and pink,
presses against the grasslands.  A scar
of lightning mars its face.

Awaiting the night’s arrival, we see
some movement in the field.  The shaking of grass

like lashes, fluttering. Something taking flight.

— Amy Ash


Comments on: "93. To the Stars Through Difficulty: Amy Ash" (1)

  1. Amy, your words, both delicate and vivid, paint the exquisite Kansas sunset, unfettered by surburbia. Thanks, Gail l. Sloan,

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