All of the poems I’ve been posting over the last month have come from my “working” file, also known as the “probably crap” file. I’ve just this week renamed them to “working,” due to the kind response on the blog.
Today, my process was the same: I pulled out a poem, read it, didn’t like it, and decided to try again. Not unlike previous days, the rewrite flowed, and I was left with the poem I’d intended to write. I suppose the key is having the hole in my spirit finally healing.
Gracias, M.
Nine Times Rise
eight times fall
nine times rise
teardrops stain the barren earth
run along forgotten soil
empty to the secret places
sink within and drench the soul
small boy reads of better life
finds the place that he should be
never names it, but it’s clearly
anywhere he’s never been
safely from his father’s shadow
tastes the old man’s bitter brew
malformed manhood ground like coffee
never noticed; never loved
but our hero isn’t daunted
dares to hope another day
sings the heartsong God has left him,
“nine times fallen; ten times rise”
his true father holds him dearly
dries his mourning ,heals his heart
as the dawn breaks he knows, simply
ten times fallen, one time Rise
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