Morning Poem
Mourning saves from the moths / Our patchwork quilted yesterdays.
Tears of joy,
Tears of sorrow,
To closed eyes open past tomorrows;
To dreams of peace,
To thoughts in war;
The greatest, the least,
Cut to the core.
Tears are rain.
Tears are heaven's.
By tears, the flattest soul is leavened.
By letting go we beat the odds.
By grasping firm we keep our faith.
Mourning saves from the moths
Our patchwork quilted yesterdays.
---------------------------------
I wrote this about — well, it's been more than one decade, and I'll leave it at that — when I was in high school. I don't know if I should be proud or ashamed that I can't say my poetry now is much improved from then, but I like this one.
About the Creator
Benjamin Kibbey
Award-winning journalist, Army vet and current freelance writer living in the woods of Montana.
Find out more about me or follow for updates on my website.
Keep reading
More stories from Benjamin Kibbey and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Hour Long Minute
I’m finally off of work from my overnight shift and now comes the hard part. I do Ride-share driving for about two or three hours after I get off of work each morning, not only to make ends meet, but to put away a little extra money for my rapidly approaching wedding.
By Earl W. Pearl6 days ago in Fiction
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.