Though you were worn and blistered from rummaging for truth and meaning, still you searched for parables. You disinterred rhapsodies. You fractured the dictionary freeing every word for your odyssey. The dove’s lamenting spoke to you of ancient stories. The gusty wind taught you grammar. Dancing phonemes tantalized your ears and tickled your throat.
Finally, you found meaning neatly nestled between language and myth. You razed the walls that bound your soul and deftly breached the rubble with poetry. Celebrate the noble delights. Yours for your victory. Ours for the love of your lines.
“He who draws noble delights from sentiments of poetry is a true poet, though he has never written a line in all his life.” George Sand, (1804-1876), French novelist and memoirist, The Haunted Pool (1851)
© 2015, prose poem, Jamie Dedes, All rights reserved; Photo courtesy of morgueFile