The Diamond
When Earth was young and life was new
An alien forest clothed a land
Where dreadful monsters crept and flew,
All meant for my beloved’s hand.
They went the way of all life, fell
To earth, beneath earth to withstand
A lightless, crushing, white-hot hell—
All this for my beloved’s hand.
Not hell, but Purgatory, where
For eons so entombed, it wanned
From soft and drab to hard and clear,
Made pure for my beloved’s hand.
With pick-axe blows it then was torn
Forever from its native band.
It saw the sun again, reborn
To shine on my beloved’s hand.
Then defter hands and keener eyes
Used blade and beam and wheel and sand
To shape it to a sparkling prize
Befitting my beloved’s hand.
Among the jeweler’s wares it gleamed
But one of many thousands and
Not largest, but the one I deemed
Just right for my beloved’s hand.
Its change complete, I proudly bear
That simple carbon, now so grand.
I lay it with my heart out bare
And ask for my beloved’s hand.
Adam Sedia (b. 1984) lives in his native Northwest Indiana and practices law as a civil and appellate litigator. He has published four books of poetry and his poems, essays, and fiction have appeared in various literary journals. He is also a composer, and his musical works may be heard on his YouTube channel.
