Trees
symbols, meaningless art
without definition of each part;
each caret, tilde, flourished tail
the ink that slips to leave a trail
papers blink through smog trees
entwined absolutely in code leaves;
outsiders, viewers, strangers each
here stopped, then left beyond our reach
what did we say to them,
as an avaricious foe or friend?
our icy hands could not relate
and glossaries have come too late
what will we say today
if an opportunity betrays
a second glance; will we delay
and tell them what we meant to say?
This poem makes me think of communication, the desire to be understood and the challenge of it. It is quite beautiful! I love the icy hands imagery and the use of "glossaries." :)
ReplyDeleteThanks, Jade! :) I didn't know what I was going for in the first stanza, but after that, communication kind of evolved into the theme.
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