Your words—They drift like drizzle down to bead me;
I stumble through the vacant ways you lead me.
Each night, beneath the shifting gaze of your eye,
I listen for the silent words you feed me.
How can my clay begin to learn its aspect
If your caress will never cease to knead me?
I am for you to harrow or abandon;
Just know my heart longs for your grace to weed me.
I never learned to fence with words like foils,
And so I feared that their misuse would bleed me.
A lone rose sways on arid desert breezes;
Each day it asks the sky, “why did you seed me? ”
“Why torment me, ” one day I asked, “with your song? ”
“Zahhar”, I heard, “deep in your heart you heed me.”
Erin Thomas's Other Poems
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Poet's Notes about The Poem
Published in Muse Apprentice Guild in Fall of 2003.
This is a ghazal poem.
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