Hey friends! This week has been a fun one for me. I've been sick since last Sunday and am still coughing up a lung. You'd think with all the time on my hands I could write a crazy cool article. But, the deadline is in a couple hours, and my creative juices have disappeared all of a sudden. SO! I decided to go back and pull something from last semester. This is a litany poem that I wrote, again from my College Writing class. I still remember the first time I read it after I finished writing it. I was stunned. I actually wrote these random and spontaneous metaphors! But then again I am incredibly random and spontaneous... sometimes. OK! Never. Anyways, I'm still proud of this poem, especially because it has everything from Christmas lights to seashells. To give a little tiny bit of background, this poem was inspired from a friendship that shattered before my eyes. Not only that, the second half also encompasses the way I feel as a lonely introvert sometimes.
A Litany
You are the rain on a sunny afternoon,
The riptide of the waves and the consistency of a clock.
You are the sunrise at 4 am
And the sunset at 11 pm
You are the unwrapped present left behind the tree
And the motor boat left at the dock.
However, you are not the dog taking an afternoon nap,
the girl playing with her favorite doll,
or the angry customer who is trying to get their way
And you are certainly not the fireworks on the fourth of July
There is just no way you are the fireworks on the fourth of July.
It is possible that you are the progression of the four seasons,
Maybe even the bi-polar Montana weather
But you are not even close
To being a week of just rain.
And a quick hike up in the hills will show
That you are neither a boy scout
Nor a gentleman
It might interest you to know,
Speaking of nature,
That I am the shells at low tide.
I also happen to be the book that’s never read at the library,
The encyclopedia that’s only used when needed,
And the Christmas lights at Thanksgiving.
I am also the eraser at the white board,
And the sweater worn only when it’s cold.
But don’t worry. I am not the rain on a sunny afternoon.
You are still the rain on the sunny afternoon,
You will always be the riptide of the waves
Not to mention the sunrise or sunset and somehow the unwrapped present left behind the tree.
