One day in spring
A tiny creek
That murmured through
Tree roots
Underneath an old trestle tall
With no trains
Across
Down to a farmer's field
All green and flat
To slip into a larger creek
Disappear beyond the hills
Was set upon by debris
That blocked its cheerful flow
Until pressure unbearable
Released it from the dam
Took out some trestle posts
Spread mud on every
Side
Coming to rest in the farmer's field.
I see the human soul
Not unlike
This small creek
Pressure becoming
Unbearable
Makes us change
The results often messy
Even unto hurt.
Then again
The life of the imagination
Laboring, bent under
Growing tension
Pummeled by intensity
Surrounded on all sides
Suddenly
A new song is born
A painting finished
A novel with its own world
And landscape
Changes forever
Time shifts
Broken to be born again.
You know one of the reasons I like your poems? I understand them :) This one on the artistic process is great.
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