As the World Turns
What rises from this wheel
is at the mercy of the hands that shape it.
Will there be traces of the elements
that go into its making?
Or will the making remove the traces
of all that came before? Will it rise,
or will the hands that determine its future
crush all that lies within in it,
like tanks rolling across a border
that means nothing to those hands?
This poem is my response to The Sunday Muse #200, which offers ten of the top viewed prompt images of the last four years. When I used this image last year it was for a love poem. The current invasion of Ukraine by Russia sends my thoughts in a different direction.
rivrvlogr 
A powerful response to the image and to the world today Ken I will take a look back at your previous poem. So glad you joined us for the 200th Muse!
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Thank you, Carrie.
And thank you for the prompt.
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We can’t help but be influenced by what is going on around us. A powerful response–but also skill–to produce such different poems to the same image, Ken.
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☺️ Thank you, Merril.
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You’re welcome, Ken!
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Ken, your poem reinforces how much of the world is reacting to this tragedy …. Bravo.
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Thank you, Helen.
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I think we all wonder what will take shape due to current world events. I hope hands of peace and wisdom prevail.
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Hands of peace, for sure.
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Admit it or not, we are all influenced by Putin’s “hands” – though his focus is Ukraine. You ask very good questions in this poetic response. I cringe at “hands that … crush all that lies within” – my own hands are clasped in prayer that what’s been/being crushed will reshape into a resilient symbol of poor Putin judgment. (As message to others – I suspect Putin personally is incapable of learning the obvious.)
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Thank you. All of this is disturbing, but not unexpected.
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The image of a vessel, allowed to form or deprived of its form is a strong one. Too much power in the hands of one man…(k)
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Sigh.
Thank you, Kerfe.
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This feels like a poem to keep in the back pocket–it offers a good beginning for contemplation.
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I like that thought. Maybe it should be in Putin’s breast pocket.
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When the maker of the vessel is shaping with intent to contain, destroy, possess, and self-glorify, one has lost the blueprint to life 😦 Very powerful poem, Ken.
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Thank you, Lisa.
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You’re welcome, Ken.
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Those tanks rolling across the border are taking us where we never wanted to go. Your poem is very effective.
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Thank you. It’s a truly disturbing situation.
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Some hands shape themselves, others shape the lives of others and send tanks…
Great poem!!
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Yes, hopefully for the good of all.
Thank you.
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