The shadows of the evening grow too long
I cannot see where I must put my foot,
And paths that I might take all must be long
The blackened trees all stand encased in soot.
Wide open fields before me sprawl and roll
What once had life is now just black and cold
It breathed and grew but now it lacks a soul -
Forsaken things; God has released His hold.
These paths will soon be covered in white snow,
For blackened, burned-out scenes can't always last
Snow covers ugliness that will not go
And far away the memories we'll cast.
I walk along this open, hopeful path
And leave behind the ugliness of wrath.
I liked the contrast you created with "blackened trees" and "snow." I think some added punctuation would benefit your poem: for example, after the first line, after the third line, etc.
ReplyDeleteI would love to talk to you about your process and the meaning of your poem. I think it is beautiful and inspiring. I think that you had a wonderfully placed volta, transforming the ugly, now cold, wasteland into a hopeful journey of self-discovery. Good, vivid, concrete imagery.
ReplyDeleteI love how even though you're using the allegorical form you never stray from concrete, relatable imagery that strikes dread into any reader who has been in the woods alone late at night.
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