digging up border - January 7, 2015s

author’s note:

As stated in the poem, I did indeed dig by a stump as a boy…

One Saturday, I found a diamond.  At least, it seemed to be a diamond.

Somehow it slipped from my hands and was lost.  I’ve searched for it ever since.
 

DIGGING FOR HER ARMS

I am still the child

who dug with a stick
in the dirt by the stump—

the boy
who whimsically imagined
he might unearth
a pair of gentle arms
for the naked statute
he’d seen in a book:

he would be her hero—

she’d use those hands
to lift him to her lips
—her flowing caress
would be the healing waters
he so desperately desired.

Since that time
I’ve discovered other means
of excavation
to try to satisfy
the ache of that child—

ways to recover
that which was lost…

knowing now, we don’t
come upon the buried treasure
all at once

no—
the hands, the arms
are uncovered
piece by small piece:

a tedious archaeology

but with just enough found
to sustain this child’s hope…

© 2015, Michael R. Patton
glorious tedious transformation: the book

Advertisements