Two Poems by Charissa Roberson

The Waystation

Hope built a home
Out of wooden walls and trust,
The muted gables shone
In a frosty silver dusk.
Far from the town
Lies a refuge in the trees;
Lay your burden down and shake out your frozen dreams.
Never fear the wind
Nor the cold that steals the light,
For the lanterns in our inn
Are rekindled every night.
Joy serves the ale
By a warming, wood-sweet fire;
Love will bring the meal, then refreshed you may retire.
Hope built a home
To relieve the journey’s miles;
So why press on alone?
Come in and rest a while.

Rock Collection

I find the music between tiny pebbles.
Trickling water, clear & cold,
Finding cracks in the riverbed.
The snowy quartz, the dark gray granite,
The plainest stones worn smooth & precious
By countless hours of tumbling drops.
I spent my childhood looking downward,
Fearing to miss just a single one
Of those distinct, intriguing chunks of nature,
Chipped off the block of the mountain’s face.
Even now I find my vision
Trailing from the skies above
To dirt & grass & truer things—
The song of stones, the words of springs.

“The Waystation” and “Rock Collection” first appeared in On Concept’s Edge.

Charissa Roberson is a student of Creative Writing and French at Roanoke College, with a minor in Screen Studies. Her previous work has been published in The Elevation Review, Burnt Pine Magazine, and NOVUS Literary Journal. When not writing, Charissa loves reading, spending time with friends and family, traveling, and playing her fiddle.

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