I have been told many things are precious outside the heart,
the heirlooms we pass down in the form of jewels,
ornamenting our next generation with style and impeccable grace.
We wear our victories with pride. Our parents wished for it.
That we would stand tall, dress ourselves in greater knowledge,
dance words, build muscle strong bones. Fight in the context
of a single frame of reference. How strong and weary we have become.
The perfection of body and the lack of soul.

At midday and before and after,
I see bodies growing faster than hearts
still pure, fresh in youth.
Vulnerable, present                 yearning to discover
their place among what lives and dies.
What can I tell them besides learn without the teachers, learn without me.
We are nothing besides a body still searching for what we own.


About Kate Houck

Educator. Human. Poet. Seeking truth through experience.
This entry was posted in culture, poems, poetry, spirituality, writing and tagged , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Jewels

  1. 5h2o says:

    Those last two lines are downright haunting. This poem gives us so much to think about.

  2. sheldonk2014 says:

    I like the last paragraph
    Thank you for yesterday
    As always Sheldon

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