I’ve run out of words that mean sorry. sympathy condolences solace sorry sorry sorry Say it enough and the meaning is squeezed out like a wet towel. sorry sorry sorry
I can rail for you — slam my fist through a plate glass window, curse fate, scream in anger, sneer at the open sky.
I can divert you — talk about the weather, relate an amusing story, regurgitate the late night news, share a recipe.
Instead I sit — hands in my lap, frozen face, empty head.
When all my carefully constructed words plaster the ceiling and my subsequent tantrum leaves me spent lying on cold concrete, in a pile of syllabic confetti,
it is there, empty, wrapped in silence, where I hear the voice of my Father.
used to think waiting was a passive thing. sit on my hands. sigh a lot. watch the clock. count the minutes. waiting until i forget what i’m waiting for.
now i see it’s an active thing — working toward that for which i’m waiting.
if i wait for peace, i walk the path of peacemaker. if i wait for love, i serve others selflessly.
Prompt: Use just six words. (Originally the words were given and the challenge was to use the given words — convict, race, great, season, play and voice — in a poem. But I was intrigued by the idea of using just six words.)
Prompt: Write a poem that responds, in some way, to another. This could be as simple as using a line or image from another poem as a jumping-off point, or it could be a more formal poetic response to the argument or ideas raised in another poem.