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What i lay my arms on
by Shirin Swift
What i lay my arms on
is part of a once-strong stone hand
deflecting the rain's disfigurement,
storm parting with pride intact;
Monument it might have been
anonymous thumb of stone,
now a testament;
Though diminished, grain for grain,
rinsed again in flesh that left the branches
it shall be again;
What i lay my arms on
makes of me a maker,
takes away the rest;
The valley serpent sent me forth
on its tongue passed steaming winter farms,
blanketed horses;
Snakelike i was led to taste
this way and that,
how the rough stone of time demotes
green hands to roots,
properly seeing the taste
of what is sapient and gone,
what i have lain my arms on.
01/30/2007 Posted on 01/30/2007
Copyright © 2024 Shirin Swift
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Kathleen Wilson on 01/31/07 at 11:12 PM The mysterious found-- perhaps left dramatically visionary after storm, as if the "thumb" of a "stone hand" set to protect-- seen by you and perhaps even embraced for the past, for the present creative vision (you give it being by laying arms" upon.) Arms also can be weaponry, but to lay arms --surrender, and thus surrendering to that vision--from that comes the future--this is the "seed" of creative life. I hope I have discovered some of where this finger points! Always so precious, your words call me back again and again! |
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