"Lodged"

The rain to the wind said,
"You push and I'll pelt."
They so smote the garden bed
That the flowers actually knelt,
And lay lodged -- though not dead.
I know how the flowers felt.

- Robert Frost


When I first read this poem, I was struck by the power of the final line- the way Frost sets you up and then sucker punches you in the emotional gut is just amazing. I am always thrilled to find poems that seem to pluck truth out of the air- poems that seem so pure that you'd swear they existed even before the poet jotted them down.

At any rate, I too can empathize with the flowers. I have sixty-two days left until sweet blessed freedom, and every day seems to get longer. Luckily I have next week off to recuperate and breathe; but in my heart I know it will only be a brief respite before the twelve-week carnage that is to follow. Here's hoping I am only "lodged" and not destroyed.