The Poet As Metaphor, Earth, Self-Taught
A POET AS METAPHOR**********
I am a poet from the common ground,
From thIs blue planet’s distinctive character— of
Continental shifts and rockslides, from valleys to Mountain crowns — always toiling to reclaim itself.
I am a poet from the land and moil tread
Over by hooves; feet; farmers’ tillers; uncounted
Legions of warriors; and, too, raindrops blessing
My thirst: before a scorching sun depletes my plenty.
My roots scatter forth in every direction —
Of a lightless substrata and above over the surface
— Unalarmed by obstacles, they will simply
Course under, around, through or over
To the next stanza of life in modes questioning
God’s necessary work on his majestic tapestries
Comprised of inspirations and threads, instincts
Or the free-willed interactions of all his created.
My voice among all humanity, has seeded slowly,
While fertilized in aloneness; self-taught In youth
By the Romantics; and lately by wielding an adz
To stones til thunder struck forcefully out...
To now, drowning the body, unleashing all
The buried emphasis to sprout through: thus,
The young blades grow bending to this way
Then that in more harmonious breezes, gracefully
Brought on into verse, urging response. So rest,
My poet’s soul, for the solitude’s been peeled open,
Your pages teem with sister metaphors spiriting up
Their wings in turns around the great lakesides.
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Copyright ©
Sally Eslinger
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