ascension

Can a poem sprout in a dark room-
doors locked,
curtains closed
to every golden drop of sunshine?

Can a poem alone,
from the meager warmth of words,
summon up enough strength
to pull itself from the earth?

No.
The cannibal poem cannot grow.
Open the curtains- place it close to a window
where it can swim an endless sunny lane,
from stagnant circles
to sparkling pilgrim chain.

Better yet,
plant the poem careful in the ground.
Watch it burst into flower
and quickly ascend-
See it link the unlikely,
the foreign befriend.

Let it spread its roots deep
in a world that is wide.
Feel with it small
and never satisfied.