First Draft
blackberry honey
your thick honey meets my blackberry-craving tongue / dripping and lovely I’m melting in your palm / suddenly I remember singing in a churchyard / and for a brief moment I worry my sainthood has been abandoned all this time / but when your hand finds home around the back of my neck / liberated tree roots and vibrant green moss growing over the base of my skull / my memories there still with your love and Jesus too / your breath and my breath must be a new song / there is holiness in our hips where two or more are gathered / Raphael came in the middle of the night he told us we haven’t much time / so we hold each other and weep the way only angels can as blackberry honey fills our lungs
By Katarina Tylerabout a year ago in Poets
The Language of Falling Leaves
🍂 Introduction: When Nature Teaches Us to Begin Again Every season carries its own poetry, but autumn speaks in a language unlike any other. The falling leaves are not just signs of endings—they are whispers of renewal, reminders that change, though sometimes painful, is necessary for growth.
By Nadeem Shah about a year ago in Poets
