It started one day,
as I stopped to listen.
All silence had swayed,
old memories glistened.
Remembering times,
my own hands had buried.
Reliving the climbs,
with anchors I carried.
A basket of goals,
led me to my escape.
Mending scary holes,
new beginnings undraped.
Given directions,
inner guides have been found.
Lost in reflections,
to awaken by sound.

– Grace Y. Estevez – Reddy

Response to Sadje’s picture prompt on What do you see #134 May 16, 2022

45 thoughts on “Buried

Add yours

  1. Your poems are beautiful and meaningful. I can see a story in every line. Who inspires these works of art? After reading i am going to quote myself: After all
    Hanging on a brick wall
    A mirror confirms
    The fairest of them all.

    You know in every poem your heart shows. It reflects something about yourself to the world. My motto let the poem write itself. When i saw these poems i realised i am years behind. Its a wake up call. Last word from me:
    When the soul speaks even the reflection in the mirror weeps.

    Keep up the good work

  2. Lost in reflections,
    to awaken by sound.

    These are such powerful words Grace. Great take. Thanks for joining in

  3. “Reliving the climbs,
    with anchors I carried…”

    It’s so exhausting to carry our anchors up the mountain path, yet sometimes it’s equally difficult to let them go. There’s wisdom in everything you write, Grace. πŸ™‚

  4. It’s a beautiful take, Grace! Memories are at times needed to be buried. An awesome piece πŸ‘πŸ’πŸ’–

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