At home
my aimless mind
writes poemless lines.
Homeless under
trees or sky,
my lines take aim
to fly.

Saturday, September 25, 2021

Young woman, grow

Young woman, grow powerful.
I do not mean become bombastic
bitter or blindly impassioned.
Rather, grow reasoned and persuasive.
Become dauntless, with your head 
unbowed, resourceful.
Raise children, or gardens,
or bridges, or monuments to knowledge.
Raze impediments or the very hills
if they do not echo 
with the voices of those who cherish
grace and speak
love. Young woman, grow
old and straight-backed as a lighthouse,
wise as time, and impervious 
as mountains.

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