Sleeping sonnet

I was going through some boxes last night, looking for a book, and I ran across a folder of my old poetry. What a kick! It was like looking through a photo album of past emotions and thoughts: high school infatuation, first love, first break up, bewilderment at the process of growing up. Not every poem was teenage angst, though. This sonnet was written for a college poetry class. If I remember right, I based its form and metaphysical nature on the works of John Donne, my all-time favorite poet. I will have to share some of his works some time on this blog. I have a long way to go to match his literary skill, and will likely never match it, but here is a taste of my beginning inkings.

Sonnet

The nighttime sky loops my dust-formed body
like the bursts of light left when writing
my name with sparklers. God, can you even see
my clay vessel, my tiny soul fighting
to wave at You tonight through blazing stars?
You must see. You rustle my hair with wind
and cradle me to soothe my ugly scars,
my wounds from slipping, sinning, falling again.
If I could I'd leap and grab a comet's tail,
then swirl the stars around and write our names
to say thanks for holding this dusty, frail
body together when it should crumble in the games
of earthly life. You made the starlight bursts
that remind me You quench my dust-soul thirsts.