Bright Miracle
BRIGHT MIRACLE
Snow is my dream-home miracle,
Always called to me, never cold.
Serene, soft, silent,
Soul-scoured, fresh, reposing -
Like the sound and pure spray
Of flowing water over a low weir.
White tabula rasa submerging
Hard sharp corners; edges are softened.
World suddenly transformed, renewed, unspoiled:
Long-sought Eden garden
From the child-dreams I was forbidden to enter
By the guards: the teachers, the church, the grandma,
And other cold dark forces
Choking my green growth.
Dowdy fields, old trees, and dirty walls -
Freshly-baptised converts to pure brightness:
Industrial dumps, rusted hulks,
Row upon row of soulless cellars,
In a mantle white from the fairytale shapes
Of a Dickens scene on a Christmas card.
I feel small again in snow, always did:
Impossible become possible: childhood regained.
Post Comments
Poetrysoup is an environment of encouragement and growth so only provide specific positive comments that indicate what you appreciate about the poem. Negative comments will result your account being banned.
Please
Login
to post a comment
Turn off ads, get more exposure for your poetry, and get more features with a
Premium Membership.
