Metric Monday - Just one poem
I haven't written as much poetry as I would have liked to in the last few years, so here are a few from a while ago. I hope you all have a wonderful Monday!
I have no love songs left to write
The barren plain
The wind-scraped earth
The broken ground
And none to hear the hollow cry
I will ask once more the sky
To spurn the pain, remove the thorn,
But with each cry the seeping sand
I have no love songs left to write.
I watched with hope and sadness when your hands formed the tiny bowl
and stamped her name
She was still just the smoke that rose from the candles I lit in cathedrals.
The kiln baked the name in the curved clay,
I painted it and guarded it wrapped in paper.
I carried it across the ocean,
My heart shivered as I thought of giving it to you
as the smoke still rose to God.
I put it in your hands.
There was no child.
Many times, I would wander to the cupboard to find a plate for breakfast,
A bowl for soup
I thought of that little dish far away
An offering of reckless hope and freefall.
Then there was the slowly opening door.
She was there.
Not a prayer candle, not a dish, not the smoke.
A child lucky to have a mother with such a hopeful heart.
Bless you both for believing in the yes that comes at the side of why.