Wednesday, January 07, 2015

Digging for Her Arms

author's note:

As stated in the poem, I did indeed dig by a stump as a boy...

One Saturday, I found a diamond.  At least, it seemed to be a diamond.

Somehow it slipped from my hands and was lost.  I've searched for it ever since.


I am still the child

who dug with a stick
in the dirt by the stump--

the boy
who whimsically imagined
he might unearth
a pair of gentle arms
for the naked statute
he'd seen in a book:

he would be her hero--

she'd use those hands
to lift him to her lips
--her flowing caress
would be the healing waters
he so desperately desired.

Since that time
I've discovered other means
of excavation
to try to satisfy
the ache of that child--

ways to recover
that which was lost...

knowing now, we don't
come upon the buried treasure
all at once

the hands, the arms
are uncovered
piece by small piece:

a tedious archaeology

but with just enough found
to sustain this child's hope...

© 2015, Michael R. Patton
Glorious Tedious Transformation: the book

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