As in sleeping-drink spices, I loosen in the liquid-clear
mirror my fatigued demeanor
and place the hush of a willow shade inside—
I, then observe soft drapes of green surrender,
where sunlight strains
through trembling leaves, let down my hair
and drink quietly from the image.
This is the place where breath slows,
where the hush is a held note, where we pause
between the hush
and the glow, between the knowing and the yet-to-be.
I step forward, where shadows thin, spill into
gold-spun air, a lover waits, touching the edges of fading time
and reach
with an outstretched hand,
as though to coerce time to stop—
could it be that ache
and sorrow are just echoes in the alley of our own making?
We are the children of clocks—ticking away our future
in seconds, blind to the centuries in between,
in the mirror,
the boundary is never sharp—it softens,
it bends,
and I am both here and not,
caught between the quiet weight of shade
and the soft embrace of light,
neither fully gone,
nor fully here—
but in the margin, I breathe, and I am enough.
I step away from the liquid-clear mirror as the sun flickers
its last breath,
and the evening pulls a veil of stars, perhaps
life is not about what is saved and
what is destroyed,
rather it is defined by the space we fear and yet
continue living on, by being brave.
Photo credits: Person holding a clear glass bottle by cottonbro studio, Pexels.
Loosely inspired by the opening line of the poem “Lady at a Mirror,” by Rainer Maria Rilke 💜
Posted for Open Link Night #376 (with LIVE Edition) @dVerse Poets Pub
40 Responses
I love where the margins took you, I can feel the exhaustion with the relief of night coming soon… maybe a bit like you do right before you walk into you dreams.
Thank you so much, Bjorn 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
The solace of sleep can be a welcome relief.
Yes absolutely! Thank you so much for stopping by, Ken 💄❤️
Your first stanzas conjure the death of Opelia in teh water–tha liquid mirror, green surrender, loosing the hair, even the willows. She hoped for love and indeed found her sorrows. Between the weight of shade and the soft embrace of light we are trapped and must find a way to be enough; knowing fear, seeking life. A wonderfully evocative poem.
Thank you so much, Steve 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
“ We are the children of clocks”
So very true.
Thank you so much, Kim Whysall 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
Oh My Goodness!!! I cannot wait to watch and listen as you read this to us on Saturday. WOW!
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, Helen 😀 yes I am looking forward to reading this on Saturday 💄❤️
Beautiful poem Sanaa! I particularly feel that idea of our bodies as inherited clocks … the children of clocks who indeed continue to birth more clocks… 👏👏👏
Thank you so much, Shaista 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
A beautiful aubade, Sanaa. As you know, we have a cork screw willow in our garden and what you describe in this poem is so familiar: how the ‘soft rapes of green surrender, where sunlight strains’, and the ‘place where breath slows, where the hush is a held note’. I especially love the lines:
‘in the mirror,
the boundary is never sharp—it softens,
it bends,
and I am both here and not,
caught between the quiet weight of shade
and the soft embrace of light’.
Thank you so much, my dearest Kim 😍 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
I thnk you worked both D’Verse challenges, seeping the Rilke epigraph in margins where body and eros, ache and sorrow, presence and absence mirror a soul brushing her hair. A spiced, lush breath potent with yearning.
Thank you so much, Brendan 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
I think this is one of my favourite poems of yours Sanaa – it draws you into a limbic space – a through the mirror reflection – beautiful…
Thank you so much, Andrew 😀 so glad the poem and its imagery appealed to you 💄❤️
a beautiful breathy poem to the morning
“where the hush is a held note, where we pause
between the hush
and the glow,”
Thank you so much, Laura 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
A beautiful meditation, Sanaa. It made me think a bit of The Lady of Shalott.
This stood out to me as almost a poem in itself:
“and I am both here and not,
caught between the quiet weight of shade
and the soft embrace of light,
neither fully gone,
nor fully here—
but in the margin, I breathe, and I am enough.”
Thank you so much, Merril 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
“This is the place where breath slows,
where the hush is a held note, where we pause
between the hush
and the glow, between the knowing and the yet-to-be.”
…my favorite stanza!
Thank you so much, Jennifer 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
A soft glowing light pervades your aubade, Sanaa!
Thank you so much, Nolcha 😀 so glad the poem and its imagery appealed to you 💄❤️
This is stunning Sanaa. I do believe the margins are where we catch our breath from life and decide our next move. A waiting room of sorts. These lines are wonderful and I can’t get them out of my head …
caught between the quiet weight of shade
and the soft embrace of light,
Beautiful 🙂❤️
Awww gosh! Thank you so much, Christine 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
I love the spilling into gold-spun air.✨
Thank you so much, Melissa 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
I love all the insights in this, Sanaa! A stunning write! Especially these lines:
“where the hush is a held note”
“but in the margin, I breathe, and I am enough”
“…perhaps
life is not about what is saved and
what is destroyed,
rather it is defined by the space we fear and yet
continue living on, by being brave.”
Thank you so much, my dearest Sunra 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️
So moving.
Such a delight to read. Disarming, powerful, intoxicating. The “hush” is tangible.
Thank you so much, Ain 😀 so good to see you 💄❤️
I so adore that last line most of all, so many lines to love, such a delightful read Sanaa.
Thank you so much, Paul 😀 so glad you enjoyed it 💄❤️
A beautiful, hushed aubade that makes one sigh. A delight to read, Sanaa. ❤️❤️
Thank you so much, my dear Punam 😀 so glad you liked it 💄❤️
Every word exquisitely placed, Sanaa. I especially loved ” step forward, where shadows thin, spill into
gold-spun air, a lover waits …”
Thank you so much, Dora 😀 so glad the poem resonated with you 💄❤️