The Greening of My Soul

A new poem by Stephen W. Smith

This poem is an exercise for me to practice saying more with less words. I wrote in prose, about the greening of my soul, in many sentences, paragraphs and flow. It was almost 2000 words. I posted it on Substack yesterday. Look for it, if you missed it. But this poem distills the clammoring efforts to a more honest and consise way of sharing the truth. In writing a poem, the words go through a sieve in my heart to filter out the unnessary and to say what just begs to be said.

In this poem, I distilled that long prose piece into some stanzas here that say basically the same thing but in nuance and inuendo. Perhaps it is better said in this poem. You be the judge and tell me, would you?

In the poem, I extend an invitation to be a witness of the pruning; not just my own but to the ruby red rose and the sky blue hydrangea.

In one sentece, I confess, “The heart, when pruned does bleed.” In one sentence, I ask us to all, in unison, to agree without details, stories or a massive blood letting of my own life story.