The Line We Keep Writing
A poem of passage, memory, and becoming
Ink bleeds across the page,
dark marks forming stories
we never saw coming.
Storms gather, then sunlight breaks
over the ridges,
filling the hollows between moments.
•
Some paths stay hidden,
veiled from tired eyes,
yet we hold the quill,
marking out the next movement.
We search for truth,
chasing light that moves ahead,
our hearts finding rhythm
in a design larger than ourselves.
•
Old ghosts fade into the timber,
replaced by dreams that hold fast.
We keep our word,
walking forward though rain falls,
moving through tall grass,
toward waters bright with gold.
•
Years move on, seasons turning,
and we face the tides,
the steady movement of time.
Whatever we leave behind becomes a sign,
a way to hold the narrative firm.
We forge the route,
claiming the spirit we carry,
writing our own truth until the final line.
About the Creator
Tim Carmichael
Let your becoming be louder than your fear, and your smallest steps become the road you once thought impossible to walk. An Appalachian poet and cookbook author my book Beautiful and Brutal Things is on Amazon, Link 👇
Enjoyed the story? Support the Creator.
Subscribe for free to receive all their stories in your feed. You could also become a paid subscriber, letting them know you appreciate their work.
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.