I can bend like the reeds.
I can bend like the trees.
But why?
If I let myself break,
I can rest in this place,
as the bending wind
blows right on by.
Surely,
in their time,
the silt and the sand
will cover my face,
leaving only
a random mound,
(ignore the sounds of choking)
and even that
will be ground
into the silt
and into the sand
that each waits,
patiently,
in this place,
for the newest
breaking sound –
bend to break,
reed or oak,
the great demand
of the wind is calling.
©️ Obol, 2020.
I’m becoming more and more into tree metaphors while poeting. This is gorgeous
Thank you very much. I love personification and nature metaphor. Hopefully, the breeze will blow me back around to such things.
I’m stuck in the sea and I might always be. I try hard though to broaden that 😛
It’s a great place to be. I love the sea and all the secrets that she keeps… and I didn’t mean for that to rhyme.