The Seed of Hope

By

Carmen Ruggero

He stood at the edge of that dark and snowy path,
and in a moment's madness retraced his steps,
seeking to fathom his journey’s wrath.

“No more,” he said, “I’m tired Lord; no more,”
and prayed for death’s sweet charm to come his way,
and in mercy, end his empty days on earth.

But he did remember the whimsical spring of his life
when dreams of the reaper were pulsating in his mind,
and hopes of future, seeded deeply in his heart.

He reminisced upon that summer when earth had
cradled in the darkness of her womb, his precious
kernel of hope -- and he waited, in patience, knowing

that autumn’s trickling gold would shine crisply
some day, and expectantly, he felt the thrust of blood
pumping, renewing vigor in his aging heart.

But on his journey’s end, the bitter winter of his life,
his heart was gouged by a blade honed with irony.
For his seed had perished in infertile ground.

And he stood at the edge of that dark and snowy path,
taking an embittered glimpse at the past, nothing to show
but a sack of dreams dangling empty from his back,

“No more,” he said, and closed his eyes, then turned
to the silver sky and shouted his anger with might:
“I’m tired, Lord; take me home, let me die!”

His gaze then rested upon a snow-laden pine,
pristine flakes trickled down the evergreen
refreshing, quenching nature’s thirst for life,
and he would sow the seed of hope, one more time.

Carmen Ruggero .2003

I've rewritten this poem on the advise of my BeWrite poetry editor. It needed work, because that first draft didn't know if it wanted to rhyme, or be free verse, or what. So here it is again. Harsh critiques are invited. :-)

Thank you. -- Carmen