Poem -
SHAPES
Regardless how far the fall from the tree
Or the withering of companion leaves
We are doomed to go forth by unseen hand
Who pays no heed to hurts
Carried forth on the wayward wind
To rise and rise against our will
When life feels like a rusty nail
That pierces the heart
It bids us rise like weeds in snow
And on and on and on we go
Doomed to live another day
Where torment reigns as king
And grow we do to shapes anew
Though weakened bowed and grey
Stunted things of little joy
Thus burdened till our dying day.
Marion Price (2019)
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