Archive of poems by Anne Kelly

A sweet sense of satisfaction
Seeps out from the marrow of my bones
I wake up sensing a new skill
The refinement of some ancient craft
Soothing the trapped terror
Allowing it to be itself
Graced in its own name.
Borne in on soft winds
Like the scent of summer fruit
In jam making season
Or the music of my mother's people
Making sugans in the sun.
My song begins in silence
Carried by love.

by Anne Kelly

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