Surviving
Feb 09 2011 Filed in: Jims Poems
Surviving
I think that I would like to be
The very last Christmas tree of all,
To have my lights turned off
And packed away.
Or maybe the tall fir in a clearcut
That remains,
To spread hopeful seeds on barren slopes.
Or maybe the final stone
Swept off an ocean haystack
By the storm seized wave,
When all the rest
Have been washed away,
When other things
Are gone, and all that survives
Is terrifying clarity,
You can see a long, lonely way,
If that still means anything to you.
I think that I would like to be
The very last Christmas tree of all,
To have my lights turned off
And packed away.
Or maybe the tall fir in a clearcut
That remains,
To spread hopeful seeds on barren slopes.
Or maybe the final stone
Swept off an ocean haystack
By the storm seized wave,
When all the rest
Have been washed away,
When other things
Are gone, and all that survives
Is terrifying clarity,
You can see a long, lonely way,
If that still means anything to you.