WHAT THE ICEBERG SAID

Bold. Blue. Megalithic. 

To think I might have begun as a whispered word on an ancient’s breath,
a droplet in the spray of a neolithic sneeze,
the spatter in a sputtered warning, “Run!”
a
single
snowflake
spit from a cloud,
delivered on an ocean breeze.

How many molecules has it taken,
pressed between frozen pages of time,
to create the storehouse of information I hold,
knowledge
that has the power to drive
a shift from the existing paradigm?
 
What secrets do I hold, you ask?
What intelligence must I contain?
What wisdom am I willing to share
without whipping up yet another hurricane?

Bold. Blue.
Megalithic, no more. 

I fear my sweat and tears may be too late
unless?
unless?
Unless, you finally use wisely 
the great knowledge you already possess.

About Donna Gwinnell Lambo-Weidner

I am an adventure seeking ponderer of the mysteries of the universe, writer of children's books (represented by Stephen Fraser of the Jennifer DeChiara Literary Agency), and lover of anything involving armor, archery, or swashbuckling.
This entry was posted in ADVENTURES, ANCIENT WISDOM and TEACHINGS, ARCTIC WONDER, POEMS, TEACHINGS FROM THE FAR NORTH, VIEW FROM MY SOAP BOX and tagged , , , , , , , , , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink.

8 Responses to WHAT THE ICEBERG SAID

  1. Susanne says:

    Ah. The wisdom of the glaciers. You are their best advocate, Donna. (Funny thing – I check WordPress every day from my phone but your post did not show up. Only when I logged in via my laptop.)

    Like

  2. Lyn says:

    I’ve never seen a real iceberg, but in documentaries, their blueness is so pure and clean. Dangerous and deadly yes, but they are also incredibly beautiful.

    Like

  3. I especially like this:
    a
    single
    snowflake
    spit from a cloud,
    delivered on an ocean breeze

    Like

  4. jacquiefaber says:

    What can the earth say besides melting her last icebergs?

    Like

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