Faith crisis poetry

As Years Crawl By

  1. The seconds tick slowly by, each one into the next,
  2. Bringing in another wave, with seeming no effect.
  3. But seconds turn to hours, and hours turn to days,
  4. Then weeks, and months, and years go by, and time does get its way.
  5. The strongest stone, erect and sure, so firmly on the shore
  6. Starts losing once the first wave hits—won’t ever win the war.
  7. Those waves pound on, day in and out, unstopped by human hand;
  8. That rock, so sound and true, becomes a beach of conquered sand.
  1. The water starts—just one small drop—down the mountain side.
  2. Joining with some others now, a trickle starts to glide.
  3. It forges on, ’round roots and rocks, push grains and specks aside.
  4. Leaves smooth and easy trails behind for coming drops as guides.
  5. As time goes on—the years crawl by—that trickle takes no rest.
  6. It carved a scar so long and deep upon the mountain’s breast.
  7. That trickle was a brook one day, a creek, and then a stream.
  8. And now a river it’s become, a mighty force it seems.

Support independent journalism

By Kim Siever

Kim Siever is an independent queer journalist based in Lethbridge, Alberta. He writes daily news articles, focusing on politics and labour.

Comment on this story

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.