Picking up broken glass
with bare hands,
of course I was cut,
but something in me
was curious to learn
the secrets of being sharp.
Something in me
wanted another reason
to be tender
with everyone I meet.
December 7, 2015 by Rosemerry
Picking up broken glass
with bare hands,
of course I was cut,
but something in me
was curious to learn
the secrets of being sharp.
Something in me
wanted another reason
to be tender
with everyone I meet.
Posted in Uncategorized | Tagged poem, tenderness | 7 Comments
Bravo, Rosemerry! Masterful alignment of the commonplace and humanism, you did indeed find one secret of being sharp
I am thrilled as I read it again
So thoughtful, thank you Rick I have to admit that I had at least six other endings, but then, when this one showed up and I knew the deep truth of it, it was one of those moments you think you really might have heard an angel band singing I relaxed so completely.
Hugs to you, r
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer http://www.wordwoman.com tel. 970-728-0399
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Monday, December 7, 2015 at 5:45 AM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Cut Deep”
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Lovely turn on the enduring the pain, or seeking it, for the sake of — as you say — trying to be tender.
Hey Rosemerry! Pleased to meet you. Rick Subber was my mom’s boss and mentor and is a good friend of mine, a dear writer-friend and friend-friend, and I came to your post from his blog. Looking forward to reading more. Best, – Bill Pearse
Hi Bill, pleasure to meet you, too! Welcome!
[…] Cut deep […]
Thanks, Richard … I am grateful for you in the world.