there I saw in broken grass
the bucket's cold aura
blooms in white,
though planted seeds,
already read your eyes.
one day's rain
trips out of her rust,
and holds sun,
or a northern hand;
becoming the light
for the ground, made wide
God's weeping
returns weeping —
full like water filling up steel;
pain...now a lily.
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.
