Little Poem, Little Pilgrimage

By Nettie Farris - Floyds Knobs, Indiana, USA - 15 May 2016




The Day Little Sunflower Became a Poem

and Little Poem Became a Sunflower


Little Poem loved sunshine. And he loved repetition

and rhythm. So he spent his days walking outdoors.

The continuous left right motion of his feet both

cleared and ordered his mind. It kept his mind from

getting stuck, fixated on an unsolvable problem. It

kept it moving forward, like a Mazurka or an Etude

by Chopin. Often, he would stop and talk to Little

Sunflower, who was always cheerful, even when the

day itself was overcast and gray, while he was not. He

couldn’t decide whether she was cheerful because she

was so full of sun, or whether she was full of sun

because she was so cheerful. That was another

Gordian knot. He decided to stop thinking about it.

The only thing he knew for certain was that she was a

flower of God, and he wanted to be a flower of God





Often He Awoke to Discover

Someone Had Stolen the Furniture


A few of Little Poem’s friends were Memoirs (with

traumatic childhoods) but most of his friends were

Novels (of tragic consequence), so he began to feel a

bit insignificant. He learned to puff himself up, first

with words. Words he was not really comfortable

with at all. Words that would make him sound smart.

Then he added simile. Lots of simile. So that all his

insignificant parts were replaced by things more

interesting, things that mattered. He acquired

memorable lines and phrases, ones people would

enjoy repeating.  He acquired opinions, and he made

them known. He made them sound authoritative,

certain. But he wasn’t really certain at all. He wasn’t

even sure the floor would be there when he rolled out

of bed in the morning. (Often he awoke to discover

someone had stolen all the furniture.) So he

eliminated it all. He became very small again. With

lots of room. Room for Truth and Beauty to seep in.

All on its own.