For The Sunday Whirl poetry prompt: Wordle #186
shine, mud, fervor, birds, thorns, owl,
night, crossroads, crocus, rose, thread, suicide
Old truth can become tarnished
with mud through age and ritual.
Become owl perched in a tree
at a crossroads, a nightly suicide bomber
fervently seeking any small movement.
Truth may shine like sunlight on early
crocus breaking through dirty Spring
snow, or become thorns on rose stem,
pricking sting to any finger, bloodying
that one who embraces it.
Truth is a chosen path through life,
and like these thin threads of bird
and blossom, it must always be
a living, breathing thing.
Elizabeth Crawford 11/9/14
Notes: The word crossroads always puts me in mind of Don McLean’s song of the same title, so went and listened to it:
This is a result of that listening and the word list itself. The individual who introduced me to the song, and taught me much about truth, reached out and contacted me yesterday after months of silence. Life is good. The image is one of my first digital paintings and the same individual helped me complete it.