February 5, 2016

A Rain-Fed Spring

By Tony Brown

All day yesterday
words flowed and then a spring
rose from below me —
not from within me.  I was
a pipe, a pump,
a pool as clear as light.

Today, there’s nothing.
Dry well, rusted works,
old lines so worn out
they leak dust. I’m a mistake,
a fraud, a blown well,
a drowned lamp.

Tonight I’ll pray for rain.
Whether it comes tomorrow
or the day after that
it will soak into my ground.
What may come bubbling
then is unknown,

but it will come
someday, even if
I myself die before it does.
You cannot stop a rising spring —
neither the water itself nor the words
that draw the water from the earth.

About Tony Brown

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A poet with a history in slam, lots of publications; my personal poetry and a little bit of daily life and opinions. Read the page called "About..." for the details. View all posts by Tony Brown
This entry was posted on Friday, February 5th, 2016 at 6:06 pm and tagged with , , , and posted in poetry. You can follow any responses to this entry through the RSS 2.0 feed.

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