This Week's Poetry Challenge: The Last Word Write a poem where every line ends with the same word.
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The river keeps no record of the vanished light, only a widening path of amber where evening carries that light. One leaf releases from its branch and enters the river’s current of light. Even the reeds bow briefly, then straighten, guided by approaching light. The blue heron lifts from the shoreline, winged with departing light, while I follow the riverbank, gathering what remains of light. But somewhere in the braid of the day’s dissolving light I notice the powerful presence of light. Between memory and gratitude, there is light. My mother's voice survives in an old room of light. A friend's laughter crosses decades inside a chamber of light. A poem waits at the edge of silence, listening for light. Suddenly, I understand: the world does not contain light. The world is revealed by light. The heart is remembered by light. The soul is awakened by light. And every good poem leaves us carrying a little more light.
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