The Poem Is
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The poem is a beautiful garden
Yet the visiting admirer
Sees only the surface
Beautiful?
Colorful?
Chaotic?
Orderly?
Are the tidy, straight rows of strawberries
Indicative of a neat, colorful gardener?
Or are there roots and seeds that tell
A different, and truer story
Of what was, and is,
and is to come?
The words are the flowers…
But what do they mean?
The poem is a vast sea yet the cruise ship tourist
Sees only the surface, here for a moment
With places to go and things to do
No time to explore the life within
No time to go deeper
No time to be silent
No time to be…
Frightened
Comforted
Awestruck
Enveloped
Uplifted
Are the soft, quiet rolling waves above
Indicative of a still, peaceful below?
Are there creatures and currents
Untouched and unshared,
Unseen and unknown?
The words are the waves
But what do they mean?
Your face is the surface of the sea
Copyright © John Watt | Year Posted 2016
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