While driving, I saw
a man clearing a hillside.
He’d weed-whacked a large plot,
but in the center of the cleared space,
he left a patch of black-eyed Susans.
Sometimes I am the man, determining
how to tend the soil of my choices.
Lately, I’m the flowers,
hoping in the midst of destruction
that even when my story, my very name, conveys pain,
some attentive person will extend mercy,
let live bruised beauty
so I can grow unhindered,
draw in butterflies,
or just stand, defiant and beautiful in a June breeze.
14 thoughts on "While driving, I saw"
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Wow! I like that you inhabit multiple perspectives in this poem and draw the reader into them. This reads like a parable, or the interpretation of a dream, without being preachy. Lovely writing, very nicely done. 🙂
Thank you so much!
This is a strikingly beautiful poem that is both thought provoking and easy to relate to.
Thank you very much!
Beautiful. I keep finding myself rereading it, and finding more poignancy each time.
Thank you, Hunter! ?
I love the shifting perspectives. You keep it relatable, too. Absolutely gorgeous!
Thank you so much for your comment!
Your tribute to the man is powerful, and the voice calls into focus beauty…
“… determining/how to tend the soil of my choices.” That’s the line from a strong poem that will stay with me.
Thank you so much, Mary. I hope you are doing well!