Today's Poem
BONE OF
MY BONE
I come from bone,
white, not seen,
whole, not broken as my spirit was,
not flaccid as my
flesh now is,
not turgid as my blood becomes.
My mother’s bones support me,
her spirit whole and
willing,
her flesh strong and ready,
her blood courageous,
in danger or trouble.
I come from bone.
I must not fear what is to come.
I must go forward into life
or death if that is what will be.
My mother
waits for me.
What It IsIn the city, the eyes of tall buildings
follow me.
Bungalows spill out
warm lights
on night time streets.
But alleys speak dark volumes
of anything’s
possible.
In the car, territory slides by
folding hill into plain.
Cities flash by.
Throngs of people,minimized by speed,
everywhere display power and purpose.
In the
forest
I speak to the trees
I comfort broken twigs
I
hold close a broken buttercup
I smell the locust tree
Spirit surrounds me.Picture
BLUE FIN BAY, LAKE SUPERIOR
Oh, Not To Be Shy
One narrow way blows
past
corners relentlessly,
squeaking and timid in
red blushes on round cheeks.
Here on this
wide sky-framed
bluff
risk comes not from others.
How real is hurt when
rocks have served as floor
with fissures underfoot
or
minuscule ledge toehold?
Perhaps tomorrow one
can hear "no"
and speak "yes"
and live.
Mary Joan Meagher
