Ellie belfiglio

When I hear this sound that awakens me, intimidating its way into my cloistered night, I write…




… That spring day I looked at the only way-

In the mirror on the wall which reflected a brawl!

Spring gave my face green image of grace,

But my soul did not know how I was alone!

… I could no more like many times before-

Hear street sound or singing bird around;

Or listen to children’s play in their noisy way!

No more I could stand the wailing wind –

In my sleep, the deepest moment I should keep,

Wind broke through the walls of my patient trust and all!


… All that day I gazed to my eyes with dismay.

They were worried, afraid, but denying my dread.

They took their fright into the eyelid with delight.

Among those safe lines, they hid from all sunshines!

Doesn’t this spiral way to somewhere gray-

Reach to the end or intersection  with a friend?

I must, must know at the top of this row,

There is a disturbed light that may invite-

The hesitant me to its lighted home of glee!


… I could no more carry my sadness to the door!

That spring had crept, it watched the depth-

Of my sadness which might end to madness,

Knowing my soul it covered, my patient soul that suffered.

… That day of spring, that green image sang.

At my door, where my soul soared:

“You did not think, you just did sink!” !! …





Author: elliebelfiglio

I am a professor, a poet, an author, and an immigrant. I am the survival of many political and economical hardship. As a political immigrant, it took me a long time to master the English language and to come to terms that I can never see my family again. "THE PARTING FROM MY FAMILY WAS THE BEGINNING OF A FRIENDSHIP THAN THE END OF OUR FRIDAYS!" My autobiography, "THE RAIN STOPS IN TEXAS" was published in 1997 by Eakin Press. It can be found in Amazon. As Ernest Hemingway says, write about something you know, most of my novels are about cultural difference of the old and new and American style of living compare to my home country. My poetry are in all forms. I write as they come to me. My first draft is always my last draft. "THIS IS MY WORLD, WELCOME!" "THANK YOU FOR BEING HERE!"

2 thoughts on ““INTERSECTION”

  1. No more I “could” not “cold” I think. Please check that. Cool piece Elle

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