Schooled

I misread our invitation to write #12  as a prompt to re-work something we had written in the past, not something we had written at our Annual SWFL Women's Writing Retreat. So, I am posting the image poem I put on my own blog and our Trail Brazen page.

Sometimes, teachers have to follow their own advice and reread the directions!


I saw a red flower,
a fiery blaze among a wasteland of twigs and dead grasses.
Its petals like miniature trumpets,
blasting out the sound of red, unapologetically announcing its presence.

A lesson in resilience.

I saw a dusty path leading nowhere,
yet leading me somewhere, to a window carved in between bent trees.
Its view like a portal
to a watery world with hidden treasures and unknown wonders.

A lesson in curiosity.

I saw a piece of barbed wire,
rusty and mangled, restraining the remains of a tree.
Its spikes like a crucifix crown,
digging into the already dead tree, a warning to those who passed.

A lesson in obedience.

I saw a congregation of fish,
growing from three to eight, all waiting for something.
Their fluid movements keeping them in place,
moving, yet not going anywhere, all eyes affixed on one spot.

A lesson in patience.

I saw a patch of vegetation,
jutting out from the water, rebelliously rooted in the glassy water.
Its blades like unruly hairs of a cowlick.
Swaying in the breeze, sticking its middle finger to the plants on the shore.

A lesson in rebellion.

I saw a tree,
offering a secret, shady respite from the blaring sun.
Its dewey leaves like half-opened umbrellas.
Boulders surrounding it as if to welcome the weary, the down trodden.

A lesson in spirituality.

I saw spiky pods,
split open and rotting on a sea grape tree.
Their prickly skins like porcupines.
Daring anyone to touch them, waiting to pierce the skin.

I saw next to them, brand new grapes,
green and firm.
Their smooth skins soft as a newborn.
A gentle reminder that each death results in new life.

Lessons in endings and beginnings.