Shekinah Glory

A Poem I’ve Worked on For the Past Three Days
July 14, 2008, 10:57 am
Filed under: Inspiration, Poetry, writing

Who thinks that
A distance to self
Is infinitely farther
Than rutted grooves
Carrying my ancestors
From their Eastern shore
Toward Oregon’s coast?
They rested halfway
For generations
In sod houses
Nestled in light brown
Prairie grass
or red bricked
Suburban homes.

They traveled on wooden wheels
Jostling across uneven clay
Or strips of rubber
Baking on an asphalt trail,
Stripped from their rims
On roads so hot
They create mirages
Of standing water
Shimmering in the distance
On their modest
Dips and inclines.

Leaving the familiar
For unknown places,
Seeking to be free
From harsh poverty
These pioneers
Only found blisters
On newly calloused hands
Whose flesh was
Beginning a lesson
with a plow’s unyielding wood,
and the endless repetition
of senseless jobs.

Too bone weary,
Their work so hard
They gave scant thought
To anything except
Making it through a new season.


2 Comments so far
Leave a comment

It’s a wonderful poem. So much of your history there.


Comment by tribalchurch

Thanks love.

Comment by pastorofdisaster

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: