Finding Poetry

by Elizabeth Wawrzyniak

It is true that a rock cannot be poetry,
it is older than the words themselves,
and much more solid; a rock cannot
mean other than it is. But perhaps there,
in the East with the slowly rising sun,
is a poem, hidden between the tiny
darting specks of light, filtering over
the horizon, rustling through the treetops
like the most silent of morning winds.

Yet the sun, too, is older than the words.
When the rock, newly formed was thrust up,
still hot, from its molten birth out of the
earthen crust, even then the sun shone;
the first light cast upon the ragged
surface was the sun's own blinding ray.

Still, the poem is not found in the sun rising,
But is carried to us on those first rays of light.
Every morning the rays are new, unique.
Yesterday's light, perhaps it was a bit more
yellow, and maybe tomorrow will be a tad
more red. But today, this day, the light is new,
never seen. We are witnessing its first breath,
first steps into the world that it will power.

And yet, the rock. It can still never be a poem,
but surely poetry is found in the way it
reflects the sunlight, how it forms shadows
and the way the shadows appear on its
rough surface. This too is new; never before
has the light shone exactly as it is shining now.

The Author

Elizabeth is a senior at Marquette University pursuing a degree in English Literature and minors in Classics and Criminology/Law Studies. She plans on pursuing an MA in Medieval Studies or Medieval Literature, and has been reading and writing poetry for as long as she can remember. Her poetry has recently been published in the Marquette Journal, the student-run literary journal on campus. You can find more of her writing in her online journal Take This Step.