There are tigers in the forest.
I used to think I was tame. No one
knows why they are given
a certain task. My task
is to catch the tigers.
We keep each other strong.
My arms are bare. My head
is bare. We stay awake. We prowl.
*
A friend offers me a bit of something dead.
What is dead is dead, but still I try
to make of it something useful. I tie it
to a ribbon of blue and cast it into the forest.
The tigers do not care for beauty.
The tigers care nothing for what is dead.
It is me that they want.
I stay strong. The tigers stay strong.
*
I walk closer to the tigers
until we are face to face.
I have nothing to offer them
except for myself. This is all
we ever have to offer.
The tigers follow me now.
Once I thought I was hunter.
Now I see we are all each other’s prey.
*
There is a room with no windows,
a room with two hidden doors.
I lead the tigers here, though I
have never been here before.
The first door closes behind us
and as the tigers explore
I push on the weight of an inner wall
and slip through an inner door.
*
Anything tame is a lie.
It is only me that I want
and I will do even that
which I think is impossible.
I do not need a weapon.
I do not need a lure.
I am the wall that I slip through.
I am the hidden door.
There is a raw power to this that really appeals to me this morning.
Your poems are a gift every morning. I wake up anticipating what I will find. My gratitude is immense.
Thank you, Happy Valentine¹s Day! Good morning! r
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer http://www.wordwoman.com tel. 970-728-0399
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Saturday, February 13, 2016 at 6:09 AM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Calling”
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clever turn of the wall at the end. I’m a bit confused but very curious about section two. turning the dead thing into something of beauty is a provocative touch.
Um, yes, this poem confuses me, too though the writing of it did help clarify it a little, more as image than as something I could articulate. I tell you what, it was one of those poems that probably was much more value as process than as product. Based on a dream. Yes, that something dead part was curious to me, too. Hmmm.
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Saturday, February 13, 2016 at 7:46 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Calling”
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