Strip away
Uncover
Are we there yet?
What do you make of me?
What am I allowed to control?
Barking splinters with a thunking axe
Strike, hammer, divide
Block, pound and sever
Years of growth reduced to kindling
Unkind scraps
Hold a smoldering spark
clinging to dryer lint
I’m freezing to death!
My hands are covered in burns and cuts
Too dry to hold on, too paralyzed to let go
Wax, wane, whittle
Are we there yet?
~
Inspired by the prompt Near; Five Minute Friday. xo
Great metaphor! Ahh the satisfaction of the rip of a good cut, or jolt of the deep and hidden knot… but always the work. Kindling may be the only way to restart a fire, becoming consumed to fuel the heat that keeps you alive and safe, as the work pans out.
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Doug your reply is like another poem. Metaphors have a way of making it easier to say things. All the knots! Yes. Thanks.
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Thanks kindly! I wrote a memory of splitting wood on one of my blogs recently. So it’s fresh. 🙂
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I’ll be sure to check it out!
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It’s not much more than a memory. But you’ve brought it into a realm of deeper meaning!
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Found it! More hidden than I thought! https://activelynotdating.wordpress.com/2017/11/09/splitting-wood/
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❤❤❤
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I love this. hugs
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Thanks AK. Hugs back.
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This is an amazing poem & excellent contribution to the prompt. Thank you.
My spiritual mentor John-Roger said how we are the spiritual being that we’re searching for. Your poem reminded me of that search. Blessings to you! ❤
Debbie
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Thank you Debbie. The answer is us. ❤️
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I really really love this.
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Thanks Count.
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