Time rows backwards,
like a boat,
sighting on what's behind
to find the way ahead.
You live life lost, not seeing where you're headed
till you've been there--
kinda like love.
Love rows backwards,
steady dip and pull
mating what's parted
It'll heal your heart or rend it again and again
till your patches sprout patches--
kinda like pokeweed.
Pokeweed rows backwards,
like a poor man's bet,
a scratch-n-win patch through emptiness
when a real meal can't be found.
It'll fill you or empty you
till you're steady on your feet or shivering on your knees--
kinda like faith.
Photo Credit: Tennessee Warbler by Kenneth Cole Schneider on Flickr
Sometimes when I write I know exactly what I'm saying. Other times it's like the words are a message from a deeper part of me and I study them trying to grasp the meaning. You'll probably get this before I do. I may not know what I'm saying but this is my first contribution to The Sunday Whirl. And now that I figured out where dVerse Poets OLN got off to, a contribution there as well. Drop by to see what others wrote or to join the fun yourself.
Posted by Nara Malone