Catharsis

Photo by Kyle Johnson on Unsplash

I climb the cold rocks at midnight
grazing my fingers along the hem
of the moon’s white slip

Through opaque cloud I yell
accursed sounds burning
the raw cave of my throat

I am used to shouting at
things I cannot see:
sorrow, fear, and grief

Here to release the untenable chaos
I await catharsis, the fatigue
and surrender that follow

With the staid concinnity of tide,
mercy begins its slow cleanse;
my chest and belly soften

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Poet Laureate of Ellensburg, WA. Author of Gifts to the Attentive forthcoming from Winter Goose Publishing. mishiepoet.com @mishiepoet

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Marie Marchand

Marie Marchand

Poet Laureate of Ellensburg, WA. Author of Gifts to the Attentive forthcoming from Winter Goose Publishing. mishiepoet.com @mishiepoet

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