Poem: “Letter To Time” ~ SM

Dear Ram-shackled barn,
Your fear of the thunder storm must run deep
It came and rapped at your shutters
And yet you held firm till it passed
Still, you stood

A month went by and you believed the worst had passed
But clouds gathered and with them your fear grew
Darker it became as the hour drew near
Each floor board pressed down hard, nails dug deeper
Your shingles rattled slightly at the first gust of wind
And again your shutters were distressed when the pellets dropped

How do you stand?
Why do you continue?
This must not be easy.
The pain must cut deep when a board is broken
And you must mourn the loss of your once beautifully crafted porch
Bow out while your wood still has a hint of varnish left
For what is coming far outweighs what you have known
Choose a careful dismantling over reckless destruction
Please…

Sincerely,
Time.

Dear Time,
I know how you must feel considering all you know,
You think I should let go and allow myself to be taken down
Trust me, I will do no such thing. I am not as weak as I look
I have sound answers to your questions
Listen carefully…

My foundation goes deeper into the ground than you can ever imagine
Not even the strongest winds will uproot me from this spot where I stand
I admit when the storms come, I do hunker down in fear
Hoping my end is not near
And then I remember the foundation on which I stand.
He won’t let me go. He won’t let me be flung away from His hold.
He is how I stand.

Why do I continue?
Well, it’s simple…
You have visited the ruins in Greece have you not?
You know of their former glory and of the trials they stood
Yet you know how long they will be stared at in awe of their majesty

A good story cannot be told unless a bad one has been known
Let the storms come and reshape me
Let the rain and the sun repaint me
My only real fear is that I will be “carefully dismantled”
For “reckless destruction” will never come
Only continuous molding, reshaping and repainting till my day of glory comes

Faithfully,
Ram-shackled Barn.

 

The Bakers’ Girl Pt. 2 ~ SM

The ledge I mount as the crowd roars loud
From underneath me, my stand kicked swiftly
My world should have gone blank before me
As I waited for peace to fall on me
Rope came undone and I fell to the ground
Bewildered I wait, they will surely pounce
Shocked I lift my eyes and they fall in line with a rake’s tine
I should have died…

“Stand up!”
The voice that commanded was smooth as clay
Sharp like cinnamon laced with the comfort of sage
Prodding me along blade now pointing at my nape
Back up the street where my escape failed
I hesitate…

“Move!”
More cinnamon, less sage
A command it was, no time to spare
I wish I could ask “To where?”
I wish I knew where this road would lead
Let me stop here I almost plead
This time, the baker will be nice

“Keep walking…”
Less cinnamon, more sage
I keep walking, building calluses on my feet
So hard they break off against the cobblestone street
Baby fresh skin revealed with each crack and fall
A thunderstorm…

The clouds burst and release their secret store
Like bullets, the pellets hit my open sores
Raising layers of dirt pressed in cotton and skin’s pores
I could have screamed from the pain
I could have run to the baker and kneaded the same
I stayed…
Till the sun sent a ray to light my way
Driving away every drop on my brown nosed face

“This way…”
No cinnamon, all sage.
I smile…
A touch like velvet rests on my bare arm
Friend turned Angel by the will of God
Brought me to a place made with birch and stone
Set with a fire low
And put in place all the things that I had once known
I’m home.

 

The Bakers’ Girl, Pt. 1 ~ SM

I ran through the streets
Tears streaming down
Working hard to hide my disgrace
I knocked at the Baker’s door
Many a time I had sought help here
He opened the door a crack
Looked at me and dutifully snapped
“I have no space for you here”

Disbelief registered clear
No choice did I have but to implore
“You said you would keep me
Forever be my reprieve
I kneaded the dough till the light was low
Helped you make the bread
Which you proudly put on show
A complaint I never made
Even when the last loaf was given away
Starved I was but slaved all day
You could have been kinder then
‘Then’ was the past beyond the day that is today
Still, I make no complaints
Be kind now and shelter me here
For home no longer grants warmth to my weary bones
It stands empty,
Abandoned in the days I spent by the furnace
I have nowhere to turn
Listen! The cobblestones are crying louder!
Hide me, save me! You promised….”

My words I swallow as I sink low
Sobbing and shaking, hands pressed to my lobes
The slamming of the door still piercing through
A door that was once held wide open…

In the distance I hear the town crier cry
To surrender and die… or to live a lie
Onto the executioner’s stand I climb, head held high
Around my neck a rope they tie
My sin I state, clear and simple as time
“Bread I made in a space not mine,
Such is my crime.”