i met a very old man
wrinkles like stories and years
thrown on his face
like a blanket tossed
to the edge of a chair
his heart vivid
while his lips hung as a
worn shirt on a lazy hook
not saying a thought
of how the eyes tell
as his mind still
chasing
grappling for
rest in peace
his thoughts
lost in forests
of stories and years
with blank stare
words
cross deserts of dry
parched tongue
exhausted
thirsty eyes
speak of restless toil
heavy under their lids
at once his face
awoke
yawning at the eve of him
salty sadness
pouring down like
gentle summer
raining tears
in sheets of restoration
cold and honest
this drowning glacier
wept
unashamed
3 comments:
this old man seems like he would have endless stories to tell of what life is about. We shouldnt be afraid of crying- or showing what life is actually about. Because through our emotions we can express what God put inside of us. Mmm... i guess i got a lesson or two to learn! Thanks to an old man :)
wow, your moving straight to the top of the blog world! poems...pictures...creativity as only erika can pull off. i dont think i can thank you enough for that letter before outreach....thakns again!
Evan...if you ever see this again, thank you for the excessive gratitude. I know it was really for you then. You dont know how much it means to me that you are so encouraged by it. Wow!
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