Tuesday, January 24, 2017

offering



photo © 2017 jennifer wagner


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

11 comments:

Jody Lee Collins said...

oh my goodness, "how far you've carried me."
Jennifer, two poems in a week-such a gift.

ayala said...

Beautiful! Wishing your boy a Happy Birthday!

Anonymous said...

What a great poem! You have successfully planted in us a feeling.

Tank said...

What a powerful poem, I love it!!

Magyar said...

Heartful Jennifer_!
__ When given the strength from someone's arms, we've been given the desire to do the same.

Wendy Bourke said...

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.

"the air is sweet offering,
unseasoned firewood, fresh chopped cords,
some stacked, some piled, waiting—
for lifting by strong arms"

. . . beautiful writing!

janetld said...

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.

Buddah Moskowitz said...

Beautiful and peaceful.

Audrey Howitt aka Divalounger said...

such a serene and beautiful write Jennifer!

Grace said...

Uplifting to read tonight Jennifer ~ Beautiful as always ~

grapeling said...

I wonder whose grave.
Tender and yet strong ~