I do not believe in miracles,
bloody tears and sweat, stigmata,
holy virgins appearing on trees,
ghosts visiting us in dreams
I believe in wounded hands,
tears, leaves on tree branches,
falling asleep, dreams, awakenings,
the ant crawling up my sleeve
Congratulations on the publication of your fine poem.
I love it! So realistic.
Joanna,
I wanted more. I like the images but in th end nothing seemed to lower the hammer.
This poem is good; however, the real testament of life stems from those miracles that beckon us from beyond the blue,perhaps even from ghosts who visit us in our dreams or supernatural elements that serve to remind us that life is indeed an enigma.The poet seems to believe in the validity of those things which she can see with the naked eye or experience through actual physical touch. It is my contention that the true essence of life is a cornucopia of experiences and sensations that defy logic or simplicity.
We all have a right to our beliefs. Here the poet believes in only concrete elements that can be seen with the naked eye as it pertains to life. I say with experience that miracles or whatever one wants to call them, does occur, and I myself cannot explain. There is more to life than meets the eye. the Poem Itself is written well; and in fact I do like it.
I was taught to expect a miracle every day, and besides observing nature, unexpected meetings with people, and some astonishing experiences that have changed my life. So I feel sad for people to don’t believe miracles. But then of course it all depends on how you interpret the word “miracle.
Thanks for your comments, everyone. I just want to say when we chase “miracles,” sometimes we miss the “miracle of the ordinary” or even turn our back on someone hurting; we adore stigmata but we miss someone’s “wounded hands”. Not only I am NOT a “materialist”; I see miracles in all that surrounds us.