Tossed Between What Is Not

I open my eyes to
solitary mornings–
no clear signs or warnings
of what comes next.

I can’t travel through time
when days seem to be
lost in details.

What is important can
never be known until
it is gone—and we fill
the unseen with

repetition as we
continue—hoping then
hiding—wondering when
we will move on.

I formulate questions
that have no proper place–
the answers hesitate–
waiting.  Waiting.

For Colleen’s Tanka Tuesday, poet’s choice. I decided to try a new form from The Poet’s Collective index of Syllabic Poetry Forms. This one is call abhanga, an Indian poetic form that has a 6/6/6/4 syllable count with a rhyme on the middle two lines.

It seems easy, but it was not, at least for me. I also wasn’t sure what I was writing about, but in the end, it seems to summarize 2020 for me. The art was an exercise I saw to do a shadow doll. That also seems appropriate for this strange year.

19 thoughts on “Tossed Between What Is Not

  1. “Hoping then hiding” — and the daunting horizons of your collage — definitely capture my mental state for as long as I can remember now, too. Abhanga is an interesting form; you’d never know it was a challenge for you! I think next time I’m ready to tackle a legitimate poetic form, I’ll give it a try…

    Liked by 1 person

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