The tuft of an unidentified weed, picked in imitation, can testify to a peculiar turn of emotion, particularly in the context of a hat full of flowers on top of a pretty girl. As the innocent grin turns to reflection and memory, one may be drawn to paint a charming scene: across a calm river from near shores full of fear, a blade is picked as a native gesture in the face of full-blown charm; did these more gentle shores have not the concrete and violence of the nether world that awaits just past the next turning of the road, or across the river. The little bubble floats an inch above the jagged rocks; the world is perfect, if only for a little while.

And yet, a thin film of rainbow can be stronger than a rampart of steel: Let the clubs fall; sticks and stones may break our bones, but it would take a greater deal than that to break our spirit, infused as it is with the strength of a tuft of degenerated prairie grass. A bell note plays in the silence; the note sustains, while the silence is transformed.

Published in: on Friday, September 5th, 2008 at 1:21 am  Leave a Comment  

The URI to TrackBack this entry is: https://thespindle.wordpress.com/2008/09/05/hope/trackback/

RSS feed for comments on this post.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: