Reflecting my lived experience. Wisdom may have arrived late to me where he was concerned, but thank goodness it finally arrived.
carry some deep meaning,
a reflection of who we truly are
gathered together
as evidence for the viewer?
I know a man who collects soil,
sand, mud, dirt, every variety
of the earth upon which we trod.
Stored in empty caper jars,
he gathers a sample in a baggie
each time his feet
land on new soil,
either a state or a country.
His life had been spent
in moving, a childhood
engulfed in chaos, later
finding stability within
a military career, and
the moving continued.
When finally he set down
in one town, he burned
his family, figuratively,
to the ground.
Is there any soil left
that he can count as home?
I collect owls, in art work
and figurines, the first
a gift when still a teen,
and so they have accumulated
until my home is filled
with the round-eyed beauties.
Is it the appearance of wisdom
that I value
or do I just find comfort
in the large round eyes
staring back at me?
My life has also been one
of moves - unsettling
and settling again -
new owls collected
and added to the walls
and shelves of each new
place I called home,
until at last we all settled.
When he burned it all down,
the owls remained,
watchful. Wisdom came late
but at last, it came.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2026-02-17 at 19:44
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Proof of Living
Do the items we collectcarry some deep meaning,
a reflection of who we truly are
gathered together
as evidence for the viewer?
I know a man who collects soil,
sand, mud, dirt, every variety
of the earth upon which we trod.
Stored in empty caper jars,
he gathers a sample in a baggie
each time his feet
land on new soil,
either a state or a country.
His life had been spent
in moving, a childhood
engulfed in chaos, later
finding stability within
a military career, and
the moving continued.
When finally he set down
in one town, he burned
his family, figuratively,
to the ground.
Is there any soil left
that he can count as home?
I collect owls, in art work
and figurines, the first
a gift when still a teen,
and so they have accumulated
until my home is filled
with the round-eyed beauties.
Is it the appearance of wisdom
that I value
or do I just find comfort
in the large round eyes
staring back at me?
My life has also been one
of moves - unsettling
and settling again -
new owls collected
and added to the walls
and shelves of each new
place I called home,
until at last we all settled.
When he burned it all down,
the owls remained,
watchful. Wisdom came late
but at last, it came.
Poetry by Melinda K Zarate
Written on 2026-02-17 at 19:44
Save as a bookmark (requires login) Write a comment (requires login) Send as email (requires login) Print text
