December 4, 2020
Photo by Krasimira Banova
A Poem by Hilde Oleson
In my hand I hold the world.
I hold my hopes, my conquered fears, my dreams.
Safely ensconced in a plastic bag, lying still, shining bright
The tiniest of shells Are refugees from a turbulent sea.
When I was ill and could not walk the shore
I asked a friend to bring me back the smallest treasures,
So she did.
Quietly they give me, once again, a message.
Wordless, motionless, they let their beauty loose.
Small, frail, yet tough, able to withstand pressure.
Relishing the tossing from the waves, proud of their ability
to withstand natures push, they nestle in the sand
Waiting for someone with an eye to see
The quiet beauty they will share,
The strength they pass, the triumph of the spirit that
They teach so silently.