Faith
I am of earth,
slow moldering like leaves beneath the ash,
pungent scents evoking
death.
You touch the sky,
extend your arms,
embracing visions of tomorrow
and of days thereafter.
And all the while,
I bear my age in bones
that ache when north winds
touch our land,
when hoar frost settles
crisp on wilted buds
The cricket closed up shop
last night,
withdrew her song,
succumbed to sleep.
Today, you skip with joy
in poppied fields.
I grieve a babe gone missing now too many days,
and little ones who’ll never know
delights of childlike innocence.
I read of Abelard
of death he witnessed—
a tiny rabbit trapped and freed
but then to perish in his arms.
And of the doubt that followed thence:
Is there a God and has
God tasted pain?
Holding the world’s sorrow,
I watch you dance, I wait for hope..
I attempted this poem in response to Emmett Wheatfall’s prompt today an dVerse Poets’ Pub for Meeting the Bar. Emmett introduces us to a new-to-me concept using the term CONFLATION. Visit the pub and learn all about it at http://dversepoets.com Thank you, Emmett.