Returning When you returned,
you were rusty as the chains
outside your house,
holding the half rotted sign
along the streetside.
You threw away more
than you kept, your
words and images frail
and incomplete, your
heart uncertain, your
spirit shattered, and yet
it was in that shattering,
and the slow, erratic climb
that new depth emerged,
something more than age
and experience, something
that cut deep, revealing
not so much talent, as soul.
===============
The picture was taken in nearby Wells, VT. You can click on it for a larger version.
Tom
3 comments:
"something that cut deep"...I can relate to this line...and often...your poems cut deep as well...mostly in a good way...like a canoe on a warm lake...but we become so sealed up in our days...that the best blade is a good piece of poetry...thanks for my regular surgeries, Tom.
Hi Tom,
I like this one and the pairing of 'erratic climb' with 'new depth' and what we have to see inside.
oh wow, tom, this echoes deep...
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