"Bleach white and bare..."

Grasping, and very longing feelings arise from this Prose peice

“The destiny we missed, The life that knew living;”

This is a beautiful piece. I especially loved the above lines.

Ok, let's go:

First two lines: What are those "rusted grains"? Grains of what? "Bleach and bare and motionless" seem to be bones. I don't think you need to go beyond that.

So we have an imagistic start. Good. Still wondering about those grains though.

Lines 3 and 4: Ok - you are setting us up for a scene of "desperation", miles of it. Digging it so far.

Then after the colon, Lines 5 - 8 dissolve into abstraction— "destiny", "life", "future" I can't grasp these things as a scene. You introduce a "we" at the end of the poem. If there is a we, that is an other to whom this is addressed, should that not be broached nearer the beginning.

So, for where to go with it. You begin this poem with imagery. Stick with imagery. It seems that you sort of "gave up" (first draft I know). Take your abstractions in put them in concrete details. Paint that scene you promised the reader.

I hope this helps because your title dragged me in as I am certain others were pulled in by its bleakness. Looking forward to the next draft.

Boots

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