Posted by: Kathryn Hulick | November 24, 2009


Bailey Island, ME. June 20, 2009.


Across the earth across
my hands
open, old, and deep
a forgotten time

once there were fresh buds bursting forth
once this wound was not a wound,
but a beginning
a birth and becoming

and now the pebbles scatter, freckles across
boulders shaken to the core
can I break through their dark solidness?
through the scar?

where I dare not go
where the rawness remains
anxiety, newness

the opening of eyes, rimmed with phlegm and trickling tears
an infant
the child of the universe
was this me? it wasn’t, was it?

because here I am, kneeling in dust, fingers curled over the edge
of the earth
peering into depths so dark
my eyes fail

to open this past, I need to feel,
to reach my hands down and in,
and touch the warmth
the magma singeing the center

still I hover at the edge
of the scar

This is another poem from Leslea Newman’s workshop at the Write Angles conference.



  1. I really like this photograph and the poem.

    I know this feeling of looking down into a blackness from my past, knowing that I survived it, but being almost afraid to look too closely at it. There always seems to be that possibility of falling in.

  2. You’re a great poet!!

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