Who am I fooling,
the earth broke me,
ground me like winter wheat
for the coarsest bread.
Grind some more
I said in my bravado
and the earth was glad to oblige,
passing me under the miller’s wheel
until fine sifted flour.
Now make me food for all that lives
I dared with foolishness
and again the earth was glad
to bake me in her oven
and serve me to the people.
Buttered and brown
I pass through faceless masses
until a sad eyed child
receives a crumb
and put to his mouth
I am whole.
I love the imagery in this poem. The playfulness and the depth. A surrender
Don…this poem nourished my soul much like the crumb reaching a hungry sad-eyed boy. Blessings on you for the beauty you bring to the world.
Astonishing and powerful release! Thank you so much, Don
So true. And yet we still come through whole. Beautiful, Don
An ancient image nicely handled.
A perfect poem
Yes. Life is a challenging, refining process. Grateful for knowing why.
Gorgeous and haunting to me, Don — with echoes of the Communion rite — this is my body… You give voice to the selfless giveaway, and the power of a single crumb of life if shared in surrender. Thank you.
MMMHH. Crunchy allegory.. I do like it.
It brought tears for me. I echo Lloyd’s response.
Each crumb is part of a larger whole that Florence cannot blow or wash away–larger than measureless light years distance. How pathetic if I challenge otherwise.
My humble gratitude to you Don.
Arrogance ground down…yes!
The Miller’s wheel is not for the faint of heart.
Grind to the texture of incense says I.
Wow….stunning, Don.
I’m with Beth on this one. Your long, extended metaphor keeps moving through changes as the poem progresses, and that is technique under control of inspiration—not something that a beginner easily masters or even knows is an option.
This is so beautiful Don, and I feel the imagery in such a visceral way.
We are all intertwined.
Thank you, Don. This poem captures so much…the sacredness of each opportunity.
“……..now make me food for all that lives……..” I love this, Don!