Melinda Foshat

Poetry, Prose, Photography


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Downtime

DSC_0202-1

She was never any good at sitting
Restlessness came
When no one did
Refusing to let her forget
The ruin in their eyes

She knew best
How to walk, stumble
From bucket to can
As the wind cut by, wickedly
Unable to lift her strain

When breathing took its toll
She swallowed a penny
It went down smoother
Than the last ounce of hope

Now she sits
And waits
For a quarter

As they toss glances
And tip
Her heavy heart

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – November 25, 2014

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Anticipation

The universe spoke today
It was crisp and sound
I lost it almost in the thunder

There was no death
Nor any sight of a thousand herons passing by
Only the fleeting of anticipation

And for the first time, I listened
As the ant drowned out the rain

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – September 29, 2014


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The Prodigal’s Plight

He was born, only once
His one want, to want not

He learned sorrow in the faces
Hung lopsided on his wall
Of friends and family
And a stranger he knew once

When he died
They threw out his leftovers
With the crystal fragments
Of a chandelier
Which fell from the
Chateau de la Grange

And when his soul
Which had fled long ago
Glanced in passing
It stopped to admire
The picture of a stranger
Lying atop a bag of bones

(Dedicated to Jobina, a stranger, who in just a few passing words, inspired me to write.)
© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – September 26, 2014


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That Deserted Shore

On the sands of a deserted shore I lie, peering at that eternal sky.
By fate, or chance, or both, or neither, you ventured onto the path of leisure.
And thanks be to the God of love; your soul looked down and mine above.
For the first time, orange-yellow-purple-red-speckled water,
Bursting from a boundless view, now just a bit more broader.
Yet with a view a little more vast than that which has ever been known,
You were bound to realize the magnitude of your being alone.
And though I begged you not to go, a moment more you could not linger,
Quickly you went, as I descent, slipping from your finger.

And the tempestuous waves stand still with fear, paying tribute to those gone before.
Those who once towards the sands did rear then sank beneath the shore.
Valiantly they thrust upon the sand, a warmth they never could withstand.

The sea is calm, calmer than the dawn of that first glorious day.
On the sands of a deserted shore I lie, peering at that darkening sky.

II.

As I walked along the waters of that deserted shore in my quest to seek God,
I never once heard him cry out, “Hear I am! Follow my voice and find me!”
Instead––laughter––ringing through the empty air from
Seaweed held under paper trappings.
And the four-legged starfish smiled as it reached to steal my ignorance––
Then, unreachable.
Where is God?
Ask the broken shells and they will tell you––
He came in with the sea and he left with the wind.
As I walk along the waters of that deserted shore,
For the first time––I see the misery––
And hear the groans of grains of sand beneath my blistering feet.
I turn my direction towards the glistening waters.
Alas, I see God––
Buried beneath the ruins of that deserted shore––
Laughing.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – February 22, 2013


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The Deserter

When the children come, they come bearing stones and sticks.
I say to them, “where is the twine which to tie them together?”

They continue, barefoot along the uncultivated grass.

They hadn’t understood me.
They are only children.
And the world is too simple, too sweet,
For the formation of knots.

Positioned alee the iron gate, they arch each stone and stick at the other’s crown.

“Harm not your brother! Lest you spend eternity seeking that sacred
Salvation which cannot be found!”

They hadn’t heard me.
They are only human.
Now they lie on that ancient road
From which I have long travelled.

My feet bleed, blister. There is no hide along my brittle boot.
I search for them, they are lost. Only mad men slump in place.

Beneath Earth’s dust stained red,
Irises battle to see God.
Mounting toward the smoking heavens,
A view bombarded.
And my shako chord falls
Along the apple of my eye.

© Copyright – All rights reserved – Melindafoshat.wordpress.com – February 5, 2013