Have you ever tried to write a poem?
I don’t think I have since I was in high school English. Because of that, I don’t exactly remember the rules. But yesterday, as I was driving to Starbucks and Sonic, getting a little treat for me and one for the kids, I noticed two things on my drive.
The first was an empty lot by Starbucks. This used to be a big bank building, and over the last few months, it was razed to the ground. Now, it’s just an even square of sand waiting to be built up again.
The second was a motorcycle parked at Sonic. I was fascinated by the patchwork nature of the bike – the obvious care someone took to make it unique and exactly as the person intended.
I awkwardly took a photo of both (NOT while driving). When I got home, as I drank my coffee and watched my boys eat their Sonic sandwiches, I jotted down the following words that came to mind for me after seeing both of these unique sites.
I share this today with the hope that if you needed these words, they found you.
Road Ready
Sometimes I feel like a razed lot
torn to the ground.
A flat square of sand
waiting (not so patiently)
to be reconstructed.
Other times I feel like
a motorcycle I once saw
in a stall at Sonic.
It was pieced together…
a bright red wheel here,
a dark green wheel there.
Part of its body was pink,
part of it black,
and part lime green.
Weird? Maybe.
Special? Definitely.
Because all of it was…
cherished.
It was pieced together
by its owner,
each part chosen deliberately
and placed just so.
Sometimes I feel like
a razed lot
ready for construction
and sometimes
a patchworked motorcycle
ready to ride.
Either way,
I am reminded
that someone is paying attention,
that someone is working
on making me NEW.
I am reminded
that I am a work-in-progress,
and it’s the in-progress part
that matters most.
So build on me please!
Make me road-ready!
And I will sit (not so patiently)
and allow you to
do your transformative work.
(poem by Gretchen Crowder, a novice poet for sure!)
Over 30 years ago, I wrote a poem for my much loved Dad.
He carried it in his wallet until the day he died.
I’m proud of that poem because of what it meant to him – every word was heartfelt and every word was meant.
Thank you for sharing, Katy. Reminds me that we all should never be afraid to put down our heart in words and find the right avenues to share it!