We’ve never been a good fit
as I’ve skimmed across your surface
scratching at dust
looking for entry
The humus of my life is enough
to sustain each season.
Never enough it seems
to grow roots.
They counseled me,
” Don’t forget to breathe
when the trees
lose their leaves”
I watched those last brazen greens
that were stunned to new growth
by the sun warmth and rain of falling days,
their wildness ignoring immoral reason.
I harvested their leaves for winter teas.
Good medicine for this winter of my life.
The pulse now lies below
tucked in for reflection
networks of roots resting,
arms around each other.
When I too was brazen
I would empty myself with nights of hard drinking,
or when resolve quickened for release,
with bouts of high fever
Unaware of the pulse below
and startled by the clacking of human engagement
that other seasons hid from view with warm promises.
Now I have covered that distance between my mind
and have become a nomad in this civilized wasteland
as I follow the shifts in my perceptions.
My skin is a porous coat
in all weather
in all seasons.
When I went to re-post this poem I discovered that it had originally been published exactly a year ago on the same date. It’s good to listen again, poetry being such an amazing dialogue with self, with Other …
You have remarkable psychological awareness. Is your Intuitive training something you are willing to share? This poem is crafted in a web of keen resonances and connections.
Thank you for your kind words. No formal training in a particular tradition, if this is what you are asking.
Your last stanza is lovely. As is your entire collection of poems; thank you so much for sharing them.
It is surprising to me how creatively freeing it is sharing such intimacies…a new experience. Thank you for listening!
“don’t forget to breathe”
very breathtaking writing … I enjoyed re-reading it a number of times
Thank you Geo Sans.
living in a time of specialized references
all spinning worlds of their own
love the way you cut through stone.
by your fluidity
Amazingly keen insight into yourself, you have. Not all are blessed with this kind of intuition. Thanks for sharing.
Thank you for your encouragement MJ. :~)
It has been an intimate “virtual” meeting this morning as my email inbox was filling and I followed as you read each post, commenting along the way. I wanted to catch up with you and express how much I am inspired by your own resonating reflections.
Thank you for your generous words. Like you, I am also a wayfarer – struggling often with words and how they connect with my deepest feelings. 🙂
I so appreciate your sensitivity and attention. And courage and knowing. I have a very visual response to your poems…hmmmmm. I liken them to tapestries, richly woven, weathered, murmuring stories, wisdom, life. Thank you.
Your encouragement has given me so many insights into being more “physical” in expression, Sirena. Thank you….xxoo
light will find you
Happy Solstice Geo….! Light finding us all again and again. Wishing you and yours a blessed holiday season, my friend.
happy solstice my friend
you heart and words
Truly marvellous. I love reading your work, the style that you have. the different pace of sections, the italicising for emphasis …
But the depth of thought and well-chosen words: winners every time.
… oh and a wonder-filled image too.
Thank you BeeSeeker. Wonderfully encouraging. I’ve been well known for talking to myself out loud for years….probably a good thing I started transferring to print. At least then someone understands what I’m saying! Enjoy your holidays!
What do I say that will touch the genius heart of you? Everything I start to write sounds so shallow to express the depths of my sincere love for your creative artistry. I am simply befuddled by the poverty of my words in the presence of the richness of yours. May you be blessed always with the rich gifts of language you share with all of us!
Respect and Admiration,
Oh Ron, thank you…I’m glad to share this moment with you. I wrote this poem while being uprooted from living and homesteading in a Northern woods to living in a suburban Southern garage apartment. I wrote poetry and tried to make the acquaintance of a small patch of red clay soil out back of the rental. It was a strange year, but this “exodus from the garden” is something we all can probably relate to.
Thank you again for your kind words! Have a blessed holiday season.