seeds of failure

photoart & poem ~ ©2018 ~ Laura Granby

“I feel my failure intensely
as if it were a vital organ”

Jim Harrison

Where does conscience reside?
my mind tells me it is there
in the attic box of old clothes
I put them on, dressing up as child’s game
but masochism is adults only
and memory the last refuge of guilt

by the pricking of my thumbs, toes tingle
and blood runs, runs cold
and sour and salty into wounds
flushed with failure, warm with shame
– I have been found wanting

failing is falling
it is there in the skipped pulse
the hoary hand on heart
held in a breath – a vital organ in word and deed
it does not desist but may pass at the last
or like some foul pest, does it reside
in each and every residual soul?

Joining Jilly and her inspirational quotes from Jim Harrison for Day 3 of 28 Days of Unreason ~ and uniting with some lovely poets in the Poetry Pantry