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"Poetry is the evidence of life. If your life is burning well, poetry is just the ash." Leonard Cohen

Tuesday, May 13, 2014


Of late, my dreams concern the shadowy land
where the ones without names were thought
to have vanished
Their remains, found beneath Italia's azure sky,
are shattering myths of non-existence
Confirming an area massive—and layered like a cake
but instead of icing—settlements

Scoop their spent breaths into stained glass containers
Rub worn stones to gain faded glyphs
Beware persistently clumsy efforts
Use teaspoons and tiny whisks, not shovels nor axes
This endeavor demands patience, a willingness to listen
would one hear, the whisper of the ancients


  1. I'd love to stand in your photo and listen for that sound. This week I've been fortunate to have field experience on the Missouri river with middle school students. Definitely...whispers of the ancients. This is beautiful work, Sharon.

  2. Thanks so much Brenda...I've had some hints this week that I may get to hang around this dig again later this summer and I am starting to be there already...

  3. Gorgeous writing, Sharon. I particularly loved, 'Scoop their spent breaths into stained glass containers.'


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