As a child

swing

~

I remember

arms and legs

working

everything into my mouth

pebbles dirt bees

I sang the earth

running rubber knees

kicking the sky swing

standing where the rain just……..stopped

laden fruit trees

~

I was used to shining light in the dark

glasses in the sun

hiding blindness

running ahead

while looking back

I trip upon the truth

~

now that I am on

the outside of the mountain

~

I’m trusting

that

love knows

~~~

~~

~

~

photo credits: http://www.flickr.com/photos/jp_42/4930340343/

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14 responses

  1. “Kicking the sky swing”–yes!! Love the visceral, physical sweep of this vibrant reminder of wild thing/child. Yes, let’s trust “that/love knows.” Lovely. Thank you.

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  2. This is beautiful, J.H. The heart of a child sings the earth in such splendid tones. Sometimes I wonder how much of that voice remains present in the people around me. Or for that matter, in me. How much of this persistent longing to shut out the noise of civilization and to turn my back on the concrete realms of mankind are a reflection of the voice I once knew as a child. Playing in the grass. Wondering at the blossoms and the bees and the smell of fertile, undemanding earth.

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  3. i’ve read the lines of your poem over and over … and I don’t expect to exhaust its riches. lovely on all levels. tony

    Like

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