Chaffed Knees

Chaffed Knees

I cannot blame the texture of the soil
for my chaffed knees, when I kneel
too heavily on the floor of the world
I polish, over and over, one home section
until it gleams the basics of earth and sweat,
until the spot is wiped clean.
When I stand, I cannot blame the world
for my chaffed knees, and I cannot blame
the knees, that only obeyed and bent
beneath the pressure of thought.
I do not blame the sky.
A majestic, blooming blue just beyond
the reach of my tiptoes, lofty and cool.
A cliff of clouds that design a variety of form,
floating broad choices and narrower ones.

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

My daddy told me the closest you could get to heaven was on your knees. And I wasn't praying at the time but weeding the flowers. I think there is a great truth to that, in that, humility and hard work produce beauty that must be from God blessed endeavors. Wonderful poem.

[Tracie Skarbo]

Bending to the earth yet reaching for the sky. Like you are saying thanks for what you have, and taking care of what you have, but still have one eye on the next challange. Great job!

[W.k.kortas]

Wonderful metaphor that is Exhibit A for the magic of Venablese; brilliant juxtaposition of the floor and the sky, of stooping and kneeling and reaching skyward. Wonderful piece of writing.