My friends, I know I’ve been a while. Thank you for your patience. New poems are coming. Here’s the first!
She was a soft and sturdy song,
A melody strung out of oak.
She was a strong and silent sad,
The kind that cracked but never broke.
– s. Clark
There were two who led.
One was spit and fire
His strength was in his voice,
His will was soft.
One was standing stone
His strength was in his will,
His voice was soft.
And both thought their way better.
The first shouted, “Follow me!”
And waved his banner from the hilltop,
While the other bowed his head,
Hoisted his pack to his shoulder, and walked,
Trailing masses in his wake.
– s. Clark
You cannot hurt me.
I have been so deeply burned,
that I am flame.
I have drowned so deep in tears,
I am the ocean.
Such a void has swept my soul,
I am the black of space.
I have fallen from the clouds
and shattered all my bones to shards,
and bled out on the sun-bleached stone, |
vacant eyes wide, reflecting
buzzards picking at my bloody pieces.
And I have stood up, and walked on.
I have been cast from heights much greater
and plunged to depths far deeper
than you could ever reach in me.
You cannot hurt me.
– s. Clark
“I am the tower strong,” she said,
“Though I may crack and wear.
I will not bend beneath the dread,
Or sway with pounding air.
I do not fear the night that falls
Nor sun that heats my skin,
For I am made of stronger walls
And tougher still within.
Shame cannot bow my weary crown,
Pride cannot break the stone.
No force of will can bring me down–
I do not stand alone.”
– s. Clark
The body may become broken and bruised,
The spirit is stronger by far.
You can pound it from stone,
Set it deeper than bone,
And then light it as bright as a star!
– s. Clark
