A poem from 1998. It’s still in its raw form because I resisted the urge to try to make it better. I hope you enjoy it.
The Garden’s Light
June 1, 1998
The garden’s light
burns in me
still.
For all their swords
and their wars,
that love in me
they could not kill.
For it is
the night that
they now fear.
Never listening
to the mountains
speak,
they still refuse
their heart
to hear.
Clinging now
to their own
steel blades.
Never to walk
to the river,
never in the
water to wade.
The garden=s light
still speaks
to me.
Tho= the wisdom
seems lost
and the keys are
gone,
I can still look
and I can still see.
They still fight
and they still
sleep.
The books are
hidden and locked
are the doors,
yet here I am
inside this
keep.
Despite the wars
above the swords
and blood.
I stand still
I can still hear
the calling
of the garden
in the wood.
(C) 1998 by Joelle M. Wilson
