by 
this is the way …
this is the way, I re-imagine life
……a poem
to put it to rest in black on white
to bury the quick along with the dead
to plant flowers with seeds from my head
to fund the seas with my words well honed
to dust the house but leave cobwebs alone
to remember my ending and forget my start
to let solitude heal that pain in my heart
to turn burning questions into philosopher’s gold
and skillfully repurpose my ragged old soul
© 2019, Jamie Dedes
Jamie Dedes. I’m a freelance writer, poet, content editor, and blogger. I also manage The BeZine and its associated activities and The Poet by Day jamiededes.com, an info hub for writers meant to encourage good but lesser-known poets, women and minority poets, outsider artists, and artists just finding their voices in maturity. The Poet by Day is dedicated to supporting freedom of artistic expression and human rights. Email thepoetbyday@gmail.com for permissions, commissions, or assignments.
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Recent and Upcoming in Digital Publications Poets Advocate for Peace, Justice, and Sustainability, How 100,000 Poets Are Fostering Peace, Justice, and Sustainability, YOPP! * The Damask Garden, In a Woman’s Voice, August 11, 2019 / This short story is dedicated to all refugees. That would be one in every 113 people. * Five poems, Spirit of Nature, Opa Anthology of Poetry, 2019 * From the Small Beginning, Entropy Magazine (Enclave, #Final Poems), July 2019 * Over His Morning Coffee, Front Porch Review, July 2019 * Three poems, Our Poetry Archive, September 2019
“Every pair of eyes facing you has probably experienced something you could not endure.” Lucille Clifton
Jamie Dedes' THE POET BY DAY Webzine 
Dear ladies, why is cobwebs making entry again and again?
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Well, you must admit, Pali, that they are ubiquitous in our lives and so in our poetry. 🙂
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I would love to re-imagine my life in this way as well – especially the part about leaving cobwebs up…
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Mirza Asadullah Khan Ghalib wrote
kahun kis se mei ke kya hai, shab e gham burri bala hai
mujhe kya burra tha marna agar aik baar hota
to whom might I say what it is– the night of sadness is a bad disaster!
why would I have minded dying, if it took place one time?
This is the way I know, but I know so little…
Every beginning has an end
Death for human beings is ordained..
To Allah is our return, but the time is a secret,
it is a certain uncertainty, but not a regret
solitude is but a concept, one is never alone
illness is change, a test on flesh and bone
a spider’s cobweb saved the prophet’s life
protection was given in a whale’s inside
learning is best from the cradle to the grave
life is full of tragedy one needs to be brave
parents are given not chosen,our start is
not our own,let us sow seeds of good
and make a fruitful fragrant peaceful garden
evergreen and richly grown.
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