Where occident and orient… Collide? Intersect? Parallel? Mimic? Join? You choose…
Each week The Sunday Whirl invites writers to write a poem or short prose using some or all of the “Wordle’s” 12 words. This week it is:
He carefully places his hopes tonight, as every night,
inside the rust-hinged chest alongside his straw bed,
Across the world, you refuse to submit.
On this date, both of you wish to be free.
You scream aloud at your perceived role;
He knows his assigned role.
You believe Will can carve fate;
He sweeps the ashes out from
Under the pot of yesterday’s gruel.
You keep after and after tomorrow;
He rinses away remnants
of leftover meals,
prepares again for today’s sameness.
You see mess; he organizes it.
Both want more.