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Poetry by Shigé Clark

"Let the battered heart rejoice"

Tag

warmth

Theme Week: Spring – 1

The Thaw

It has been winter so long.
Cold crept in and creaked her bones,
Made her icy to the touch.
She wanted to see the beauty in the snowflakes,
In the shimmer of the endless ice,
But she is buried six-feet deep,
Breathing in shards.
She tried to ward the winter off–
Keep moving, friction forces warmth.
Curled her toes and rubbed her hands together,
Huddled close to someone else’s heat.
But they were temporary flames,
Only candles, blown out in the blizzard of her soul.
Until, unforeseen beneath the grey gloom sky,
The Sun returned. And though so far removed,
Unreachable by tiny, frosted hands,
The strength of its fire lit the sky
And rolled across the earth like liquid gold.
And, softening its strength,
It caressed her frigid fingers. With a crack,
The frozen fissures of her heart are thawed
And melted into clean, spring water.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Christmas – 2

Wrapped

White flecks fall
Painting the landscape pure,
While we wrap warm wool about our necks.
And parcels wrapped
In jolly red and shimmering silver,
Fold in joy with tender care.
Arms enfold,
Wrapping us in warmth,
Engulfing those we love to keep them close.
Lights soft twinkling,
Like crystal-spectrum stars, and all
Is magic, wrapped around the everyday.

– s. Clark

Theme Week: Spring and New Growth – 1

Emerging Spring

Old man Winter sat upon his stoop
Puffing frosty breath into the air,
Cracked his brittle knuckles as he gazed,
Brushed his icy slippers on the stair.
Looking back, he called into the house,
“Child, it is time to rise from bed.
My stay here is passed, and yours is nigh,
Wake, and shake the cold out from your head.
Earth awaits the sunshine of your smile,
For its warmth to melt the crystal snow,
And it craves the sweet scent of your breath
To expel the frigid winds that blow.
Come, dear, there are frozen trees and fields
Waiting for your touch to make them bloom.
You will bring no beauty to the world
Painting light into your silent room.”
As he sat with flowing beard and robes
Rolling full and white onto the floor,
Came a tiny head of floret hair
Bobbing up to hide against the door.
He raised up his hand and waved her on,
So with timid grin and swishing skirt,
Spring danced out to join him on the stoop,
Dainty feet and fingers dyed with dirt.
Laughing, she reached out her tiny arms
Greeting earth, and as her gladness spread,
So the warmth she held. Until at last,
Winter rose, and softly went to bed.

– s. Clark

In This Moment

She is happy
With her twinkling Christmas lights
And her candles
Lighting up the frosty nights
Fuzzy blankets
Soft and snuggly in her bed
Apple cider
Cinnamon goes to her head
She is happy

– s. Clark

The Giving Souls

There are those who slip like sunbeams
Through the shades that you’ve drawn down,
Who can rush like sudden air into
Your lungs before you drown.
Those who’ve been the lilting song-bird
In the heart of winter’s chill,
Or the bush of wild berries
As you crest a thorn-choked hill.
They’re the steaming cup of coffee
Given at the midnight guard,
Twinkling light that can turn what was
Only blackness into stars.
There are people who remind us
There is music in the noise,
There is beauty in the broken,
And still light within the void.
There are those who have been laughter
Bursting from a hollow heart,
To bring unexpected comfort
In a world that’s torn apart.

– s. Clark

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