Grit & Glitter
My younger son underwent minor surgery last week at Children's Hospital here in DC. While I was waiting for him to wake up so we could take him home, I found myself pondering the mystery of human suffering, especially children's. I have no answer (I'm not even sure of the question), but this poem came to me and, as always, Naomi helped me put it into proper shape.
The Half-Life of Human Suffering Residual like the grit
left in a dry stream bed: rough
but it glitters in the moonlight.
posted by Greg at 4:02 PM
3 Comments:
I hope the surgery went well.
I like your choice of a title. There are many posibilities there I think.
And the sparse minimal nature of the poem works for me also.
Good stuff, thanks for sharing.
I like your choice for a title, I think there are many posibilities there.
And the sparse minimal nature of the poem speakes volumes.
Good stuff.
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