Divine, poetry by Sharon M. Williams at Spillwords.com
Ryan Stone



written by: Sharon M. Williams


The last piece of cornbread.

The shopkeeper’s picture of Martin Luther King, Jr.
in the corner, on the shelf, in front of the seat of honor—
The painted light blue chair with brown edges and creases
a wobbled leg that causes it to tilt when you lean back,
to gaze upon his face.

The new seeds from the blades of grass left in puzzle pieces
holding on to one another after the storm of cleated feet.

Chinese take-out on Friday for two
before the train door closes on the trench coat trailing
behind / small tug / big fright / no wounds
Running home in puddles of rain and dirt on shined shoes
and tailor hemmed seams / damp
as in clams, oysters and colossal teardrops
suspended from wood beams.

The checkerboard cake for the first time
Grandfather’s smile when he took his seat, opened his arms
and peered into the waterfall of new life placed in his care.

A warm school lunch easing sounds of an approaching bear
Filling hungry bones, empty cupboards and tired minds.

The old Country discarded like divided socks, a soiled
sponge, and a wire hanger digging out the crevice of a soul
A new Country / its unity / peaceful living / the human race as a whole.

After the fires.

Hearing the words and seeing their fruition
“I have a dream that one day…rough places will be made
plain and crooked places will be made straight.”

I have a dream—

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