Poem: On my daughter's moving

On my daughter's moving

You look in the back of your truck,
piled with boxes, flotsam and dreams,
a cacophony of your daughter's life,
tossed to the street

then picked up again.
lovingly embraced and moved
eleven hours to a new garden,
and you remember your own journey,

uprooted from all you knew,
and how, while you were there
you did not see the bramble of thorns
for what it was,

how, you grew, not straight and clear,
but bent and crippled, reaching
for the tidbits of light allowed you,
and how,

the brambles pulled aside,
you suffered first
from the light of truth,
but finally, unafraid of thorns,

you thrived.

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The picture was taken in Virginia last spring. You can click on it for a larger version.

Tom