Sorry Words

What good are they, these fractured things?
Can they be strung on gold wire, made into rings?
They are not silk or wool to be grown, spun, dyed
nor stitched into robes—though of course I’ve tried—
they are stretched and torn, so washed and worn
that light shines right through.

They can be stacked like bricks, but hold no weight.
If forged like steel, they’d make an unhinged gate.
They croak, stutter, screech: no blackbird song—
no practical good, though I’ve loved them so long.
So, drop them in a jar. Save them like seed.
In 800 years, may they bloom at your need.

Day 23 prompt for the PAD Chapbook Challenge was an apology poem. Also, I read a story of 800-year-old seeds that grew into squash, and it has been rattling around in my head.

12 thoughts on “Sorry Words”

  1. A lot to think about here, yes, how many times do we try to make “sorry words” into something of worth, but finally it is, as the French say “inutile” …I think your poem is painfully realistic, and I love the image of the 800-yr-old seeds, I think it’s just right!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. Thank you. I’m picking through to find the better ones for the Writers Digest chapbook challenge. And then I find maybe 2 that I like, haha. But it has been great to push through and click the publish button every morning. 🙂

      Liked by 1 person

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