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photo © 2017
jennifer wagner
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a
fourteen-year-old finger
has
written R.I.P.
on
the dirt of the grave in our backyard—
now
crisp
in
frost
the
dirt clods
turn
up in ant-like hills
the
air is sweet offering,
unseasoned
firewood, fresh chopped cords,
some
stacked, some piled, waiting—
for
lifting by strong arms
—like
i am, scattered
near
this cross,
lining
up my betrayals
before
you—
where
I remember
how
far,
how
far
you’ve
carried me
© 2017 Jennifer
Wagner
oh my goodness, "how far you've carried me."
ReplyDeleteJennifer, two poems in a week-such a gift.
Beautiful! Wishing your boy a Happy Birthday!
ReplyDeleteWhat a great poem! You have successfully planted in us a feeling.
ReplyDeleteWhat a powerful poem, I love it!!
ReplyDeleteHeartful Jennifer_!
ReplyDelete__ When given the strength from someone's arms, we've been given the desire to do the same.
I admit, I haven't really thought about the concept of 'offering' in a while, but - yes - I do believe that - literally and metaphorically - it can be very healing.
ReplyDelete"the air is sweet offering,
unseasoned firewood, fresh chopped cords,
some stacked, some piled, waiting—
for lifting by strong arms"
. . . beautiful writing!
This is a poignant, tender, and brilliant poem. I like how offering hints at the last part, which can be read in different ways but which I read in a spiritual sense.
ReplyDeleteBeautiful and peaceful.
ReplyDeletesuch a serene and beautiful write Jennifer!
ReplyDeleteUplifting to read tonight Jennifer ~ Beautiful as always ~
ReplyDeleteI wonder whose grave.
ReplyDeleteTender and yet strong ~