Thursday, April 23, 2015

Day 19-ish: Words in the Wind


Words in the Wind

It makes sense in my head,
a thought I sculpt for hours,
chisel, shape, unveil.
But the words leave my lips
and lift off,
blown dandelion seeds
that float, wiggle,
whorl on fickle winds.
They rise or drop,
split or hold together,
land in soft soil
or on concrete slabs
while I watch
and hold the empty stem.


This poem should strike a chord with anyone who has attempted to advise a child, an employee, a friend, or anyone else, only to watch helplessly while the advice dissipates as though never spoken at all. 

Thinking about the random ways dandelion seeds float, and the underlying connotation of wish-making as one blows, the image for me captured at once a picture of elegance and helplessness.  It is a very short piece, but within it I tried to blend hard sounds with soft (e.g., "whorl on fickle winds") to further capture that dichotomy, reflecting both the ease with which the words part and disappear and a note of bitterness watching it happen.

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