Twenty-five years ago, I wrote a few poems. Feeling vulnerable, I read a couple to my English teacher friend. Her positive response encouraged me to continue.
I thought writers, especially poets, were way above my abilities. In my process of learning to identify as a writer, this poem, Still Life, continued that earlier encouragement when it won a prize in a poetry contest. From there, I’ve written more poetry, articles, blog posts, a book, and now more than four years of Sunday Psalms.
Zechariah records: “don’t despise the day of small beginnings.”
What worthwhile growth starts big? We think, we imagine, we take one small step. And we grow into the identities God means for us.
Glory.
STILL LIFE
There’s a watercolor on my bedroom wall
that contains it all.
Jerry turned the post top on the stockade fence
I made the wreath
Jennifer took the photo
and Libby took the brush to paper.
A still life of greys and browns:
the finial finishes the post
The wreath lies lightly through the middle
the shadows make the depth.
Tied together with lines and curves,
darkness and light…
We step in tune to some long-felt music
joining, each in turn,
to do this work of art.
©Karen Rabbitt 1999
The Lord bless you and keep you all your days.
Lovely!
A beautiful poem. Thanks for writing and posting it.