Grit
You have grit
My professor told me
My whole life has been
Scraping against this grit
Hoping it winnows me down
Into something sharp
A weapon honed
Or maybe sands me down
Like a river rock
In a seasoned tumbler
Arising with a smooth surface
All my rough edges eroded
This is grit
Carried with me
From the singing creeks
That crafted my childhood
From the silt and small creatures
The beckoned us to play
It has traveled
From the edges of gravel roads
Where hollers became rodeos,
Or music theatre, the natural world our stage
which morphed to fit our fledgling dreams
It comes from unmarked hiking trails
Unclaimed or cursed lands
Hidden and abandoned buildings
Places we shouldn’t be
But youth caused us to crave
We were raised to collect such grit
To find and adopt the forgotten or despised
To let it mark us in its myriad of ways
We who give into the backroads calling
We who’ve not forgotten that both
A sparkling spring
And a murky pond
Can baptize the same
3 thoughts on "Grit"
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Adore that last line!
Wonderful extended metaphor. The second to last stanza in particular with its cursed land, buildings, and cravings appealed to me.
Terrific imagery about grit. I agree that the last line sums it up perfectly.