Friday, March 25, 2011

Truce



An exhaled pause that could
stretch into a week or even years,
a jittery finger on the trigger,
or uneasy as a flag, flapping a single wing,
the color of clouds painted upon a blue canvas. 

We might talk or we might
seethe.
It all depends
upon the lungs, its inhale
and what is expelled.

© Ami Mattison

For G-Man's Friday Flash 55

Photo courtesy of portobeseno
Posted by at
Labels: , ,

16 comments:

  1. knot eyeMarch 25, 2011 at 4:08 AM

    words of change, windstorms
    blown away again

    Peace, hp

    ReplyDelete
  2. Brian MillerMarch 25, 2011 at 6:55 AM

    our tongues slay more than the guns we pack on our hips...and our drmatic pauses handgrenades just waiting to go off...ok wnat to say hey before i hit the road...peace!

    ReplyDelete
  3. BrendanMarch 25, 2011 at 8:35 AM

    When you read about the barest of scrapes Gaia has had in sustaining life for a billion years here - some extinctions due to volcanoes or meteors snuffing out almost the last chance of life -- we realize what a wonder it is that any life survives, that truce is possible, that peace can come down the razor bridge of eternal war. And the balance is so undecided -- "we might talk or we might' seethe." The final lines suggest something which is even beyond will or thought, a coin's flip of how lungs at any moment breath. And any truce is just a moment's stay against what sadly seems so inevitable ... Fingers crossed ... Very fine. -- Brendan

    ReplyDelete
  4. G-ManMarch 25, 2011 at 9:16 AM

    Unfortunately, sometimes what is exhaled is lies and BS!
    Welcome back Ami
    Loved your 55..
    Thanks for playing, and have a Kick Ass Week-End

    ReplyDelete
  5. amfMarch 25, 2011 at 10:04 AM

    "or an uneasy flag, flapping a single wing"
    wow, what a line...actually the whole thing speaks volumes, powerful 55!

    ReplyDelete
  6. Alice AudreyMarch 25, 2011 at 10:12 AM

    Well said. That point, the moment of decision, can be so vulnerable.

    ReplyDelete
  7. limeMarch 25, 2011 at 10:56 AM

    today i am merely sighing heavily. i have no words. thank you for lending yours.

    ReplyDelete
  8. hedgewitchMarch 25, 2011 at 11:18 AM

    Perfect capture--and how often we are captives there--of the mexican standoff known as love, and of course, many much more big wheeling things that get pushed through the cosmos. libraryscene pulled out my favorite image also. Hard to believe this is only 55 words, so much, so well said.

    ReplyDelete
  9. Linda Bob Grifins Korbetis HallMarch 25, 2011 at 1:25 PM

    only you can write this.
    what a treat/wordsmith...
    Happy Friday.
    loved your 55.

    ReplyDelete
  10. Steve IsaakMarch 25, 2011 at 1:45 PM

    Abso-tively frakkin' can relate to the sentiment and beauty of this - did I mention I liked it? =)

    ReplyDelete
  11. AnonymousMarch 25, 2011 at 2:20 PM

    It's a razor's edge...can, and does, go either way. Who knows? I know this much...this was beautifully conceived and executed. Vb

    ReplyDelete
  12. FireblossomMarch 25, 2011 at 3:10 PM

    "it all depends upon the lungs"

    well I just love that.

    ReplyDelete
  13. BelindaMarch 25, 2011 at 5:19 PM

    I guess it all depends which way the wind blows...though I'd like to stay open to to it being a step closer to peace...fully loaded 55. Very nice.

    ReplyDelete
  14. brenda wMarch 25, 2011 at 7:10 PM

    Oh, Yes!

    ReplyDelete
  15. PattiKenMarch 26, 2011 at 11:08 AM

    Nice one, Ami.

    I suppose it is when a truce is newborn and uneasy that it is both at its most fragile yet still has the most potential. With age, it becomes commonplace and expected, and in taking it for granted, we easily violate and destroy it. And then it's only a matter of time before conflict rages once again. Sad.

    ReplyDelete
  16. gautami tripathyMarch 26, 2011 at 1:10 PM

    I say, yes!


    Here is mine:
    homing

    ReplyDelete

Subscribe to: Post Comments (Atom)