The world is on fire this week, I
don’t have a pithy bone in my body right now, and I have to go in
to work this afternoon. There is not much else going on in my life right
now other than the same struggles that I can’t go into a lot of
detail about on a public forum. But they are heavy, my friends, oh so
heavy, as so many of our struggles are now these days.
So
in lieu of a regular post, here is the latest draft of a poem from
the “new series” that is coming along tremendously slowly due to
my chronic mental and physical distractions. But at least it’s
something. I hope you enjoy it.
Still
Life with Rowing Machine
This
labor is simple: Pull.
Your
back is a pinion of flames. Pull
Through
the strain of this toil. Pull.
The
waters are heaving. Pull.
You
will rise on this swell. Pull
In
your staggering grief. Pull
In
this fevered forgetting. Pull
With
the will
of the
holy. Pull
For
this scaffold of sinew. Pull
With
your castle of bone. Pull
In this red benediction. Pull
With
the bearing of kings. Pull
In
this soundful beginning. Pull
Serene
and remorseless. Pull
Towards
the root of your strength.
--Kristen
McHenry
2 comments:
I love your poem and post! :--)
Me too. (Unfortunately, posts that wow me often leave me dumbstruck. I think, I'll go away for now and comment later! But of course, having six decades, and this being the age of distraction, what happens is I wander away and get caught up in some other loop of the world. I loved this.)
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