PUZZLE
It’s like peeling an onion.
When you’ve been through the layers,
slowly laid them back,
savored the feel of silky skin
you’ve wet with your warm tears;
they fall away like veils and
you may reach a certain space.
Tiny niche in a hollow,
peace carved
in a place you’ve never noticed before,
flicker of harmony in a glimmer of light
so tender it will break your heart,
so clear that you may miss it
so simple that you’ll never believe
you solved the puzzle
of your Self
yourself.
—from Rattle #21, Summer 2004
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Zilka Joseph: “I write poetry when the rhythm and music of words play in my brain, and I hear nothing but those voices, and my thoughts grow louder and drown out everything else. I run for pen and paper and the lines rush out, falling over each other as they flow. It is a deep and essential craving, a story that has to be written, any time of day or night.” (web)
