Friday, April 30, 2021

*NEW POEM* Looking Forward & Asking Questions

Seventy-Two Inches

by Judith Cullen

© 2021


Smiling is useless,

a flex beneath

filtering layers

expressing nothing.

Trying the eyes

results in odd

bulging twitches

like transitory gas.

One hundred and

eighty two centimetres,

seventy two inches

of cavernous void.

Our beings long for

rituals of comfort in

a frightening world,

stretching out.


New effort replaces

old attempting;

must work at it,

have to mean it.

A compliment,

a serendipitous flower;

the reaching that

bridges the gap.

Learning to extend

the soul beyond

a sway of breath.

Words count:

Please, Thank you,

Lovely smile.

Silence a missed



What will we

retain in after-times;

when protective

layers peel away

and distances dwindle?

There should be

greater endurance,

expanded soul range,

from reaching,

from continual effort.

Seventy two inches

should make us

stronger in kindness,

diligent at connection.

Will these newly flexed

muscles remember?


“Social Distancing Cookies Angular” by Tinus Badenhurst CC0 Public Domain image from

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