by Tricia Knoll
Five words she scratches
in a dusting of snow-frost
below the gorge waterfall
pointing shards of ice –
breath
patience
compassion
endurance
merging
One word the old woman
will choose as her touchstone
for next year, to notice, grab onto
each instance it appears before her,
repeat before sleep.
Past choices – simplicity, love,
witness, and resilience –
guided her bones.
The cold canyon wind
pulls tears and teases silver strands
from her green knit hat.
Sun floods
the low rock bowl
of the canyon,
edges toward her.
She steadies
her scuffed boot
above the frosted cedar duff.
She decides.
Leaning, her fingertip erases
four possibles,
her slate melting, merging.
5 comments:
a very lovely poem
What a splendid poem! Not only is it beautifully crafted with a pitch-perfect landing, but the theme resonants. We attract what we focus on. Thanks, Tricia!
What a splendid poem! Not only is it beautifully crafted with a pitch-perfect landing, but the theme resonants. We attract what we focus on. Thanks, Tricia!
This poem stirs something old and almost forgotten within me. It whispers to me now, calling me back towards the Deep Mystery of the Universe. Thank you!
Kate Lore
Trisha, thank you for sharing this special poem. Intentions are important! Merging deserves some thought and action in the new year...
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