Monday, November 30, 2009
I Shot An Arrow (revised)
It could be a Love Poem remembered,
or a Psalm in time of need, perhaps
that worn page so often turned to,
that becomes the gifting "word of life"
bursting through barren soil
like an arrow set to fly.
They come to us in whispers,
these words, and even in our dreams,
emerging from the sacred Well of Memory
a bucket filled to quench our thirsty souls.
Some sting the flesh with honesty, like
an unexpected mirror turned to grab the heart
and then, some come tender like
a long forgotten kiss upon the brow
or a smile just in time, from a passing stranger.
Who can tame the flight of words
that spring from tongue or pen?
Who presumes to see their port of call?
No one, not even the Wind
Yet, there are those words
that linger on past dawn,
words that move us
turning inward, searching yet
beyond the common door to find
a reason to believe
a reason to keep loving
a reason . . . to forgive.
beginning believe blogcatalog body born branches bridge comes comments connecting cradle cucinello dark days dreams earth flesh free gave joanne life love man mind miss moon night oh once pm poetry posted ready sacrifice sometimes spirit stand sun table think top trees walls war web widget wind woman wood words
created at TagCrowd.com