If you choose, child, your voice can come
directly from the whitened birch
standing guard against the infringement
on familiar territory,
for example, you take little room
with your talking leaves,
humming prayers high above the shadows
of the rattling cones.
If you choose, child, you can be shushing grass
brave men fall upon to cast a statement
in your caress, to hold a hammered heart
until the time for dust to dust
for example, you can be the mark of peace
on the battlefields as you turn inside out
to push red flowers from tendered earth.
If you choose, child, you can be rain,
striking the dry tongue of minions
waiting, open-mouthed to catch a drop
of your wisdom to hold them for a dry spell
for example, you can wrestle words from writings
and go out onto the earth to scatter
bits of torn testaments to take hold
in hardened hearts so they can be softened.
If you choose, child, you can be the wind
sighing through the branches
and measuring the bluff, carving care
in furrowed brows of stone
for example, it is not the monuments
but the matter of all you touch
and in the manner in which you reach them
that turns them into prophets.
If you choose, child, your discourse
like lamp to light post, what halos
are there reflect the skylights
and something further and higher in the Universe
for example, the shadow speaks to the abyss
green speaks to the white bark
your voice, ringing through the cacophony
is small enough to whisper in any ear.
Author notes
For Dolan, pictured on the contest page...
Written April 28th, 2006
In a list
A contest entry
- 9 PICTURES TO CHOOSE FROM - Prewrites Welcome by BarefootSoul.
350 points, ended May 2, 2006, 8 entries
Bronze trophy winner
• next poem in this contest, remove from contest
What did you think
Comments
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"for example, you can wrestle words from writings
and go out onto the earth to scatter
bits of torn testaments to take hold
in hardened hearts so they can be softened.
If you choose, child, you can be the wind
sighing through the branches
and measuring the bluff, carving care
in furrowed brows of stone"
Absolutely beautiful, my sista...such purity & Grace within each line, my Friend...It's obviously borne of Wisdom, Strength, Experience, Understanding, Compassion & Love...all the qualities I admire in you, Lady...Congratulations on winning the bronze, Dear Heart...If it were me, you'd have gotten the gold...Wonderful writing...Your Gift is a sacred one & true...
Wanda
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I do love this poem...I am expecting a new grandchild within the next week or so. Out of adversity is she born and I went to the palce of a grandmother with this one. I am glad that you enjoyed it.
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phenominal, I am honored with your talent. Every part of this poem was perfection and the metaphoric meaning teaching us of new life and life gone wrong captivated me and leapt out of the poem to the heart. Thank you for your entry
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