Unraveling

Unraveling

For Today  (4/9/07)

To be a poet, one must love
language, must pour its liquid
libation over dried sand
of silence, leaving darkened
wet mark that lasts far less
than a day.

William Stafford once told
Robert Bly, to be a poet
he must unravel first image
of each day, every day.

Today, I am sixty-one.
First image: braided palm
fronds we made at Easter time
as children. Fragile patterns
of Spring green curves, slowly
dried to color of sand
over the years.

Sixty-one years of sand colored
curves woven together,  memories
tied in braid only I may
unravel.

Elizabeth Crawford  published 8/30/10

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    1. Unraveling II: One Word At A Time | Soul's Music

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