It is
That aching
Of tired muscles
As I crouch
Upon the bumpy shore,
Like a man praying
With a sin,
Lodged in his throat-
"Sir, it was only once."
My hands twitch,
Against swollen thighs;
My body rocks back and forth
Like an irregular current.
See, I am behind
The line that separates
Land and sea.
But I push my hand through,
And force it into the water.
The current pulls me unwillingly,
Like a dog on a leash-
But I heave it the other way.
Now I arise, my
Stone thrusting into my skin-
I hold it all in my fist.
Laughing, I shoot
the stone into the river;
It is like a rusty nail
That pierces
The skin
Of the water,
There I see it expanding,
Weeping, into an
Open wound.
YOU ARE READING
Strength
PoetryStrength is a selection of poetry about an inner spiritual strength. Sometimes when we are feeling most weak, our spirit opens up like a tree within us. Poetry has always been a way for me to express the beauty and strength I see in God's world when...
