Blue heals.
A long commute
is robbed of its poison
when the view from the air
is blue,
if there is sky
and ocean too

blue heals
Like the presence of a bruise,
passing slowly to let you know
the progress shows,
pain’s transient hue
that healing blue

and night falls sweet,
true natural darkness
under stars and moon,
not black, but whispering blue
the deep inhale before tomorrow
breathes out all anew,
this quiet indigo
in which we rest;
this healing blue.


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This blog is the collection of my poetry and prose, in chronological order from most recent to oldest.

Constructive critique is actively encouraged!

I am usually singing words as well as writing them, and make lots of other art. You can find me & my other art at any of the below links. x

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All content on this blog © Rebecca Tilley, 2003-present

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