While I was reading Wislawa Szymborska’s bio on PoemHunter.com, I felt inspired to write a short poem about innocence. I didn’t plan for it to have a specific meaning, and it could be faulty on some areas, so I’d like to offer it up for critique. Here it is!
Innocence, whenever someone loses his or hers,
Always finds its way back to its owner.
On wagons with wooden wheels,
On trains that have tracks of steel,
To lost innocence, it doesn’t matter.
It always finds its way back to its master.
It knocks on doors and windows,
Rings on doorbells follow.
To announce when it arrives,
It shouts “I survive!”
It disturbs rest or slumber
just to find its way back to its owner.
But lost innocence never stays.
Even if it went a long way,
It just wants its owner to know
That it’s been lost long ago.
Upon that disturbing realization
During the long-awaited reunion,
With a slight shudder, it will utter,
“I’ve been lost and stay lost forever.”
Then, it loses form, it loses power
Home in the arms of its master.
It’s a work in progress, so your feedback is most welcomed. What do you think of it? Does it make sense? Feel free to critique in the comments section or write a blog post about it. Thanks!