Poem The Move

The Move

Watch it disappear,
Stuff, remnant memories
Of all the years,
Piece by piece,
Emptied of treasures
Thought to hold love,
Finding that’s not what
Love is made of.
Letting go is
Difficult but true,
It’s what the Phoenix
Must achingly go through,
Crucible of heat
time and time again,
Never knowing precisely where
Or unexpectedly when,
Submitting to the inferno’s
Intensity of fire,
To shed an old skin
Transform to something higher.
When decorated walls are stripped,
Personality chipped away,
Bare rooms’ hollow echoes,
Say all that’s left to say.
Within that empty song,
Void painfully rebounds,
Phoenix feels rise her voice,
Her strength within,
Where something new is found



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