"Poetry is thoughts that breathe, and words that burn." ~Thomas Gray

"Poetry unites." ~Anon

"Truth is such a rare thing, it is delightful to tell it." ~Emily Dickinson


Written by Therese Broderick
She lives in Albany, New York, USA
Her site: Ekphrasis (poetry on art)

(First published online in The 2River View
(11.4, Summer 2007),and reprinted here with
permission of the author.)

These Seven Years

In some past self we hardened
Around the deepest stone
Within us which we must now
These seven years
Bring to surface with blade
Or trowel. Raised, felt, it will
Settle atop the ground, guardian
Of our flowers, fending away
The wind and rain. Like mounds
In a rock garden, evident
And intentional, what we raise
Becomes then what we step upon,
Where we balance for another age
Before releasing our next stony thing:
That quick beetle, pebbled,
Hiding beneath.

Posted with consent of the writer.

3 Comments:

  1. Donna said...
    This line is so meaningful to me!

    ..what we raise, Becomes then what we step upon..
    Anonymous said...
    this poem is like a piece of music you hear that brings up emotions from an experience you once had. but you can't figure out what it is. i'll have to read it again until i can figure it out.

    Carol
    WHY said...
    So much feeling went into this poem. Powerful and beautiful.

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