my hammer, my nails
what good are they now
the whole roof collapsed
*
doe in the meadow
my thoughts in the meadow
one of these is quiet
**
so much to learn
about
not knowing
***
not by the shoulders
but by the soul
life shakes me
****
hands bloody
tearing down a wall
that isn’t even there
*****
doe in the meadow
my thoughts in the meadow
one of these is quiet
******
at the same time
the tree grows
toward darkness, toward light
*******
so open my hands
not holding
my hammer, my nails
*********
surrounded by rubble
still I beg Love, keep having
your way with me
Interesting title, in that the end of the poem leaves you standing in the rubble. I guess it’s the sense of hesitation on the way there that leaves me as reader more amazed at the end than worn out. And that doe, oh deer.
oh deer, your thoughts are (quietly) repeating themselves. ;~)
and there, indeed, is so much to know about not-knowing.
i like the middle dismantling, “hands bloody/…” best.