> and carried with you like a hot coal through crowded streets,
Too long; a line break would help.
> It was already half gone
> when you reached the coolness of the wood,
> set foot amongst leaves,
And when did it, or what made it, completely disappear is not clear; I
think that was the intent.
> "windowless room" and later "window pane"
> "the wood" and later "little hill"
A bit incongruous; not that one cannot reach or go to a hill from woods,
but the setting of the poem could have been culminated in woods only.
with malice towards none,
css
=================
Colin dewar wrote:
>
> Resolution
>
> What now of your anger
> that you kindled in the windowless room
> and carried with you like a hot coal through crowded streets,
> fanned all the while by self-hurting words?
> It was already half gone
> when you reached the coolness of the wood,
> set foot amongst leaves,
> where nothing returns as you speak,
> no reply to feed from nor follow,
> where you scarce know where best
> to rest your gaze
> there being no intent
> hidden in mossy limb or intricate stem,
> each one like the next,
> unplanned and empty of desire,
> looking then for other words to document
> the softness of ground, the moistness of the air.
>
> What now as you stand
> on the summit of the little hill,
> not alone but with me,
> who likes you no more or less
> than when you shut yourself in an angry room?
> What else but words that turn to sky,
> sinking no longer against a wall
> or banging in anger the window pane
> quieter as they pass away
> and still attended, gone.
>
> Colin
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