The Year of Whiting Grey

Charmed Chaos

“How many loved your moments of glad grace, 

And loved your beauty with love false or true; 

But one man loved the pilgrim soul in you, 

And loved the sorrows of your changing face.” 

― William Butler Yeats, The Collected Poems of W.B. Yeats

They say sorrow 
etches lines 
across your face
I know this to be true 
for every briny tear shed 
leaves an immutable trace 
of wrenching grief 
you have endured

In this year 
where deep sorrow prevails
prophetic news 
dawning everyday
thousands dead, more to come
With each searing cry 
for another’s doom
comes another 
strand of whiting grey

The Sunday Muse #138

View original post