Roar

Another of the 5 minute poem exercises from the workshop I did months ago was to pick a picture postcard for inspiration and write a Fibonacci poem (in which each line obeys the Fibonacci sequence either in the count of words or syllables).  I picked a photo of the National Archives, which is a place I have some important personal memories of (and I counted syllables).  (And although a correctly countable draft was done in 5-ish minutes, I fiddled with it for longer than 5 minutes just now.)  

One of the things that struck me most at the Women’s March in 2017 was the sound of a roar coming up from one section of the masses and traveling through the rest.

shield

of

paper.

so fragile.

shielded under ground,

under glass in perfected gas

while hundreds of thousands throng past its echoing home,

giving their living noise to raise fading words from crumbling pages, shielding each other.