oyster with pearl
by Prasanta Verma

I am waiting for this single grain of sand—
drenched, beaten, bent— until
softened bubble pearl in my hands.

I am waiting for my words— churned and rummaged
through days and rivers— until
washed clean, in rivulets of graceful form.

I am waiting for my song, fleshed in earthen dirt—
off-key, uneven, cacophonous turn— until
a sapphire symphony from dissonant muddy grays.

I am waiting for my canvas— washed, primed, empty —
to recompose, through prismatic turn, until
a vision of breathtaking, radiant, luminous hues.

I am waiting for my broken pieces— fallen, beat—
seeking meaning as sunsets turn, until
framed with beauty and pulsing emerald seas.

I am waiting for life-bitten hands to open and swallow
the fears of mankind; the colorless, bland cries.
I am waiting for release of hopes and golden breath.

NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: “Release” was originally a sestina I wrote a few years ago about waiting and the creative process as an artist struggles through creating art, whether it be poetry, painting, music, etc. I rewrote the stanzas, removed the form, and incorporated the word “waiting”; ultimately, the poem culminates with the desire, once again, for beauty and for sorrows to end.


ABOUT THE AUTHOR:  Prasanta Verma is a homeschooling mom of three with a passion for words; she loves poetry, books, and chai. She currently teaches speech and debate classes to high school students, and her newest adventure this fall included acting in a local theater production. Prasanta wrote her first poem at the age of seven, and began studying poetry more intentionally a few years ago. She has had poetry published on blogs, including her own, and on the Tweetspeakpoetry.com website.