Your Worth beneath the Sun

She walks the earth with head hung low

Unsure of where she fits.

She’s watched the skies and searched below

And seen the way the spirit splits

In two when someone makes a choice,

Resolving toward a certain chord.

Regretful phantoms lend their voice

To the road left unexplored.

 

But regardless of the path that’s chosen,

You’ve made the choice your own.

I could say your burning doubts are frozen

By the branch of life you’ve grown.

 

What deeds you’ve done,

What songs you’ve sung.

Do you know your worth beneath the sun

Ever since the air first rushed to fill each lung?

 

But beyond an account of acts alone,

A more fundamental undertone

Recalls to mind a lullaby

For babies, birds, and bards who’ve yet to fly.

 

Even if you didn’t do

The amazing things you’ve done,

Your endless value still stands true,

For you live within life’s web beneath the sun.

 

So lift your head and hold it high.

Your worth would more than fill the sprawling sky.

I finished this one a while ago, but it didn't seem like the right time to share because the weather here was cloudy and rainy. It's still cloudy and cool (not so much rain anymore), but the sun came out today as I was walking. When I got home and looked through my poems to decide which one to share, this one seemed right today. It speaks to the inherent value within each person, regardless of who you are.

Let Them In

We try so hard

To push the magic out

And hide what hopes we feel with stoic covering.

 

We try to disregard

The wonder all about,

Forgetting life beyond the deadlines hovering.

 

We have our moments, rarely,

When stars align, unveiling

The strings that spread across the cosmos, glistening.

 

Perceptible, just barely,

Their sounds are never failing,

And we are free to let them in by listening.

 

I've been feeling very busy recently,  and I think that feeling will probably continue, at least for a few more weeks. I just finished this poem last night, without really connecting it to how hectic things have been, but now I get the sense that it's the universe's way of telling me to remember to take some time, relax, and not forget the wonder and beauty that always surround me.

Trimming of Hedges

Sometimes I wish there would be no trimming of hedges,

That we’d let them grow to engulf the concrete ledges

Where we walk or stand or sit and stay awake,

No space for dreaming dreams of what we’d make

If we let the world be what it will be

And conform ourselves to the contours it would take,

Rather than working the other way around

Where it’s forced to fit our footprints on the ground.

 

There are large green hedges along the sides of the road during much of the walk from my apartment to my office. I enjoy looking at the twisting branches and small leaves that form this natural wall. A few days ago, I saw several people out trimming these hedges and noticed a number of cut branches and leaves lying in the drainage ditches besides the road. It got me thinking about how we do so much to force the world to conform to our society, our infrastructure, our wants. I wondered how things might be different if we focused just a bit more on fitting ourselves into the shape of the world around us, rather than fitting the world to ourselves.

Of Vines that Hang from Power Lines

They wind themselves around when they have found it.

Eventually, their growing leaves surround it.

The power line supports them as they try

To stretch a little closer to the sky,

But when the power’s cut, and night goes dark,

Their energy maintains its living spark.

On my walk to and from our office, there are some places where I can see vines reaching up and curling around electrical lines along the side of the road. I just found this to be an interesting sight, and it inspired this short poem.