Your house shall not be an anchor but a mast - Khalil Gibran
Creativity
Watching, Waiting
It’s the last Poetry Party before Christmas, and Christine has created this mysterious image from photographs of her female ancestors.
Image by Christine Valters Painter, by permission
Here are the words that came to me from the image:
From clouded silence their
sharp eyes see too far. Judging.Does death wipe out all the
mistakes those living eyes made?Am I to be allowed no excuse
for my human inadequacies?I will not wait for death to
give me frozen, far-seeing eyes.I will rejoice in my stumbling
jerky progress, here, now.I will hold high my lamp.
I will not be afraid. No!
Discussion
3 comments for “Watching, Waiting”
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© 2007 Anchors and Masts. 
TESS! This poem gave me goosebumps! I loved the last two stanzas. Isn’t that the truth!
I love the movement of this poem Tess, it feels like a journey of ascent from the depths of sorrow and regret. Beautiful!
Maya, goosebumps, I’m honoured! There’s something important for me about light and lamps at the moment, and also the defiance of the word “No”, which I find too difficult to say.
Christine, thank you, and for your image which stirred something in me.