Peace
Poetry by Jane Chakravarthy
Art by Brit Kinnard
I sit on the chair on the porch of my old house
creaking the wooden chair
my father bought me
when I was a young girl
the chair did not creak when I was young,
through the years it became weathered, worn,
the polish, now a faded memory
apart from around the edges
like a frame the smooth seat that once held me rigid
yielded to my body
with its now slight curve no longer catches my clothes as I rise
the chair has seen many moments,
the death of my father, my mother, and my husband,
he wanted to mend the creak
I asked himnot to
my children who left one by one
now visit when they can find the time
but I sit alone
I do not reminisce
for time has moved on,
I sit patiently now
watching the world at my feet
the tree in front of my house
has taught me many things
as it grows with the passing years
through the seasons it comes alive,
lives to the full in all its splendid glory,
dies, ready to return
new life,
new form,
I notice its leaves do not have
the same hue as the last
the tree stands still
weathered with knowledge, worn with the breeze,
like me and my chair,
it does not complain
it stands erect, silent, encompassing
every moment an observer
defiant and composed
my guide to peace
Jane's work is an exploration of her inner consciousness
creating her work is spiritual / emotional catharsis for her.
She likes music, reading and
vegan carrot cake.
Art by Brit Kinnard
treeOfpaper@gmail.com
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