Poems of the Week

Outside the Box

 

Maybe there’s no box

to think outside.

Maybe there’s no lock,

no door, or key.

Perhaps there’s just the

scared, small me

holding tight to turf

that isn’t mine,

trying to be somebody.

 

I struggle for release.

I seek and strive,

all the while failing to see

the obvious.

The only walls in front

of me are those

I’ve built myself,

the fortress of my personality

so well defended it seems

impenetrable.

What I create,

I can take down--or maybe

I am free right now.

 --Danna Faulds

 

 

 

The Whole Array

 

This life isn’t about

slicing off the parts

I don’t like to be

left with those I do.

I choose the whole

array—night and day,

ease and its opposite,

the squeaky wheel

and the grease gun.

 

Push any piece of

life away, and a key

that could have

Opened a door is

lost, tossed out with

the trash. I pray for

the courage to receive

the full catastrophe,

however it appears

to me, without

needing to push back.

 

--Danna Faulds

 

 

 

There Will Be Spring

 

Fall is at its most

exuberant today.

I point to an

exquisite maple,

leaves like orange

flame and say,

when I go, I want

it to be that way—

a blaze of glory,

nothing held back.

I want to celebrate

until the last leaf

blows off my last

bare branch and

trust that of course

there will be spring.

 

--Danna Faulds