No. Yes.
SUNDAY POEM
NO. YES.
What gives you the right to grab what is not yours
to take? You have grown large on piracy,
swollen like a balloon on breath stolen
from children who no longer sleep or fill
their lungs because you have convinced them the
air belongs to you; their breath, their dreams
belong to you. You have taken the tender
bamboo of their hearts and boiled it into
broth to nourish you, appetite.
You have sucked the marrow from their bones and
grinned with relish at the brine of blood on your
tongue. Your table d’hote is not unique. Genghis
Khan fed at it, made menus of the lives
of those who loved him; cast around for more–
always more–to fill a hole as cavernous
as you.
No
Every no bears in its belly the sibilant
yes: a pomegranate seed white in its
sheath of translucent red
As always, I’d love to hear your poems in Comments. This Sunday ritual of sharing our poems and our hearts nourishes our sovereign selves. It brings us into creative community. Thank you for playing poetry with me!
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For Lucas
A warrior’s cloak
torn, ripped and bloody
a symbol of will
a sign of desire
from deep within your soul
To conquer
to vanquish
to feel
to love
to have joy not yet imaginable
to caress another’s ragged coat of life
with the tender touch of one who knows.
You bear the scars of a
life deeply fought for.
There is no denying you
covet this gift of life.
Raised red lines of healing
wind their way
around
your beautiful newborn body
Feel the truth of these wounds.
They tell all of your
maniacal will to live and the
Grace of your journey.
(I wrote this poem after experiencing my grandson’s birth, the very painful events that followed his birth and his subsequent 3-mo stay in NeoNatal ICU. It is truly a miracle he is alive. He is now 9 years old.
Julie Daley’s last post … No More Silence
Julie,
This poem really touched me. We all have scars of one type or another, so the specificity of the story you tell of your grandson enrich the universality of our shared experience.
I particularly appreciated these lines:
“to caress another
Thank you, Julie, for this poignant poem–art from the crucible of your grandson’s birth. Wishing him every blessing, and you, much love.
Hiro:
What a compelling poem. I particularly like the image of “…you have taken the tender/ bamboo of their hearts and boiled it into/ broth…”
Thank you for these poetry Sundays! (Even on Saturday.)
Thank you, Laura! I’ll look forward to reading some of your poems soon.
Good morning, Sunday
sun-dappled floor
neighborhood noises.
Good morning, sweet kitty
your smiles and trills melt me
open heart greets the day.
Good morning, Love
still sleeping softly
red beard, even breaths.
Good morning, Cardinal
I hear your bright song
bright as your wings.
Good morning, Sun
it’s your day
and what a day!
Eleanor’s last post … Swimming back to Bodh Gaya
Ah, what a welcome celebration of sun-day. Thank you for this, Eleanor! :-)
Buzzing with energy
Crawling into pink caves
Mining golden riches
Sweet life!
Mona’s last post … 30-Minute Energy Alignment Process from Esther -amp Jerry Hicks