In the Garden of Rocks
My life wilts,
sweltering and dry, the heat tears me up,
The rocks are
all arranged, as they should be, brilliantly blind I stumbled inside some time
ago.
There is a place
where wonder still lives, sometimes the river in the sky pours down hard on my
back and the stones shift,
And for a second
I live like I have wings and the earth is soft beneath my feet and the water is
nourishing and the dandelions wave their little heads like golden orbs,
mistaken for angels,
Until, I remember where I am, in the garden of rocks, dry land.
Poetry still runs through me and from me. I just can't help myself! I entered this one in a contest and it didn't win, but just like a really good song works, this poem works for me when I need it. It's okay that I didn't win, I tried. And I will keep writing and keep trying.
That is what it is all about.
XXOO Sandra
