Third Place Winner, June 2002 InterBoard Poetry Competition

Poetry

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Poetry

InterBoard Poetry Competition

Third Place Winner, June 2002

THE EARTH THAT TURNS AWAY
Rus Bowden
(The Atlantic Online)

You blame the sun for going down each day,
then go to bed, close your eyes, and sleep,
not thinking of the earth that turns away.

You'd reach peaks, over clouds, and survey
great sights, if only the dark were not so deep.
You blame the sun for going down each day.

You toil and sacrifice for meager pay
and care for what you have and what you'll reap,
not thinking of the earth that turns away.

Friends and friendships die and loves won't stay,
your head hangs low, you hold your face and weep.
You blame the sun for going down each day.

Reflections show your youth replaced by gray,
and you surmise: buried with the past, to keep,
not thinking of the earth that turns away.

Twilight haunts and swallows each last ray.
The last sunset appears to you too steep.
You blame the sun for going down each day,
not thinking of the earth that turns away.

Judge Sheila Bender's comment: “I admire the form and pattern in this poem and way this poem ushers in wisdom about the way that we do not see our own hand in freezing our spirits.”