Thursday, July 29, 2010

Sunflower.


Helpless, I stand tall,
feigning at strength I don't have,
as a sunflower

stretching to heaven
in August, looks to the sun
with pleads and prayers.

There, finding no rest
from fire above or within
hangs its weary head

casting seeds of tears
with soft aching breaths, sowing
life out of dead ground.

2 comments:

  1. Don't wilt my sunflower...hang on strong knowing your flowery roots go deep, very deep. It is those roots that stretch with fine finger-like tendrils way back to Nebraska and intermingle with new life trails forged in your own growth that will always be a source of "fertilizers" need to sustain. By the way this is a beautiful poem.

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  2. I think this is my favorite of all the poems you have written so far. Beautiful, Erin!

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