Tuesday, August 01, 2006
A short poem by an unknown woman poet
I closed my hands upon a moth
and when I drew my palms apart,
Instead of dusty, broken wings,
I found a bleeding, human heart.
I crushed my foot upon a worm
that had my garden for its goal,
but when I drew my foot aside
I found a dying human soul.
Dora Sigerson Shorter
The Golden Treasury. Pagrave, Francis T. New York: Macmillan Publishing Co., Inc. 1973. P 559
To qualify my headline: I've never heard of Dora Shorter- has anyone else?
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