Tuesday 4 November 2014

She*

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She

Likes to think herself

As a pebble

It’s not out of humility

Truly

She has become one

A rock she was

Slowly very slowly

Erosion began

When those waves were flowing

Over her

She was dragged

Down and down

By the current

Into a dark hollow

Of sorrow

The bruise                                                                                       

Was wearing her away

But she is of rock material

Not so easy to grind her

She has changed her texture

On purpose

She is smooth to touch

Her contusion in streaks of quartz

Glows

That amazing inner light

In multifarious hues

Make others bow in awe

A miracle of God is

She

 

 

*She is a dear friend of mine and my inspiration. Having lost her only child, husband and very recently her father she is still standing and like the mighty pine deeply rooted to the faith in God is braving the storm. We’ve been friends from school and though she lives far away from my town we meet more than once in a year. I am in awe of her.

 

 

 


Posted for Alan’s prompt Pebbles @ Poetry Jam

Dead Man prays

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Dead man wishes

For a body

Any color would do

Black, white, yellow, brown

Any hue

 

Dead man yearns

For a body

Any body would do

A man’s, woman’s or a eunuch’s

A body true

 

Dead man dreams

Of a body

Of any kind

Deaf, mute, blind

 

Dead man badly needs

A home

 

He has consciousness to keep

He will pray for a thousand years

He has sacrificed his sleep

 

 


Posted for Grace’s prompt @ d’Verse Poetics