Poetry by Cynthia Pitman
I cradle emptiness in my arms
as if it were a holy thing,
embrace it with the warmth
of mortality,
caress it with wet hands
dipped in the River Jordan,
soothe it with the sound
of sweet psalms,
fall to my knees,
baptize it with my tears,
rock it gently,
sing to it sweetly,
cling to it desperately
so it will never, ever leave me
all alone.
About the Poet
Cynthia Pitman is a retired high school English teacher. She has had poetry published in Vita Brevis, Leaves of Ink, Amethyst Review, Postcard Poems and Prose, Right Hand Pointing, Ekphrastic Review, Literary Yard, Adelaide Literary Magazine, Three Line Poetry, Third Wednesday, and Mused. Her first poetry book, The White Room, is forthcoming.
For the first time in nearly five years, Vita Brevis is closed for submission. Read the full story here.
Vita Brevis Press. 
Such aching tenderness!
And I love the Redon painting, too.
Cynthia, I read this two days ago. Beautiful. I reread it this morning. Today it means so much more as I prepare to attend a friend’s funeral. Today, it’s personal. Thank you!
Makes me think of how sacred memories are. Beautiful poem.
A lovely piece. I especially like the first two lines. Thanks for sharing.
Better late than empty: This is a beautiful piece. The last stanza truly brings home the bacon. Wish I could “favorite” this gem, but VITA BREVIS seems to have lost the “favorite” and “like” buttons (or is just me (I am all thumbs in cyberspace)?). And maybe it’s better this way, stimulates us readers to take the time and leave some thoughts. What writing is all about, maybe: transmuting thought into a few choice words, as you have most succinctly done with SUPPLICATION. On the way to the void, let nothing bother you, because nothing will.