you said, this is the end
of me
the end of the road
-done-
there i was
discarded, flinted by rust
but i found
fire from smoke
shape from debris
purpose from destruction
now, i am reaching
for the cathedral spirals
i walk on air
framing each steel lattice into
clouds of my imagination
my hands hammer my spirit
into works of art
-undone-
the road's end is ahead
for me
each ending is yet to be born
Inspired by the work of John Pai
Posteds for dVerse Poets Pub - Tuesdays Poetics: Endings hosted by Kim Russell. I took the approach of #4, end by going back to the beginning.
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I really get a postive sense, that the end is actually a new beginning.
ReplyDeleteI get the same feeling from your poem as Björn, Grace. I’m interested to see who else ends by going back to the beginning. I love the phrase ‘’flinted by rust’ and how it becomes ‘fire from smoke / shape from debris / purpose from destruction’, and those hands hammering the spirit into works of art. A wonderful ending ‘yet to be born’!
ReplyDeleteLuv your image ending
ReplyDeletemuch🤍love
I love the image, and your choice for ending your poem. As in Buddhist rebirth, endings can be new beginnings.
ReplyDeleteTo walk on air is to step over endings. So well put, Grace.
ReplyDeleteI love the strength in your words Grace. We never end. We just rebirth and become stronger the next time around. ☺️💕
ReplyDeleteVery nicely done, Grace. I love your positive ending!
ReplyDeleteWonderful words and interesting picture
ReplyDeleteThe end of one part of life is always the start of another. How it goes, is what we make of it. The image is enigmatic. My first thought was lobster pot, but that doesn't fit the sentiments of the poem.
ReplyDeleteYour poem begs the question "does anything truly end" or does everything circle around much like your photo choice. - Truedessa - The ability of regeneration, I think
ReplyDeleteGrace, I love your personalized spin on Invictus, inspired by the stunning art of John Pai. Would love to get one of his pieces installed at Meijer Gardens.
ReplyDeletewe both touch on rust - I think yours is more wistful ~
ReplyDeleteThe strength you present / share in this beautifully composed poem ... is actually contagious. Let the circle be unbroken.
ReplyDeleteI love that you talk of endings that are beginnings - yet to be born. I also love the sense of walking on air, a liminal feeling.
ReplyDeleteI love the purposeful rhythm and finish of the poem expressed through the very "steel" resolve of imagery and voice. A powerful piece, Grace.
ReplyDelete