getting distance, getting close

What remained in Pandora’s Box after it was opened?

Why, my “all gifted” lady, surely you must know?

For as plague, poverty, sorrow, crime, despair, greed and loss flapped their ominous bleak wings in cutting claps across you, you struggled to hold down the lid.

Inside remains..?

Hope.

I know your neck too, the baby soft feel of it. I have sniffed your skull through your hair. Interesting to me though is, if he can understand it, why can’t we?

Published
Categorized as musing

By Eleanor Jackson

Eleanor Jackson is a Filipino Australian poet, performer, arts producer, cyclist, writer, gal about town, feminist, freewheeler, and friend.

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