~
There is nothing ambiguous about loss
it fills the spaces left behind
a tenderness that registers the slightest wind
so vulnerable it stops breath from breathing
in sudden recognition of how hard it is
to fill space when empty
waking each day turned inside out
~
There is nothing ambiguous about loss
That sharp clacking of stone upon stone
leaving a path of shards
the hidden gravity that shades the color blue
Where memory seems more than skin
translucent but barnacled…
a legacy of the light of dead stars
~
There is nothing ambiguous about loss
it separates the cut edges
opening abrasions with graveled hands
where hearing is more sensitive than sight
as music evokes both acid and balm
and the heaviness of dreaming
is carried in weary flesh
~
There is nothing ambiguous about loss
I am ever present in its deep grain
comprising the growth rings
through which side branches grow
I have become something other than I was
something less something more
while separated from beauty
~
This seemingly inexhaustible thirst
redeemed in the breath of wildness
each inhalation responding
each exhalation my wordless prayer
In animal distress
I bend low at the stream
Silent, listening…. I drink
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Photo credit: http://amolecularmatter.tumblr.com/
Intriguing and lovely, Jana….photo and especially poetry.
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Thank you Bonnie…I’m exploring the roots of vulnerability. Once I touched it, the words just flowed.
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Your ability to go to source is constant, Jana…you so very fine poet!
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This is so painfully beautiful, Jana. You’ve captured that horrible feeling of pain/emptiness/isolation that loss brings so poignantly.
Is the image your painting? I love it!
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Thank you Nadia…it was a poignant exercise writing this. Allowing myself to feel this vulnerable and find the words. (note: I have since changed the image on this post)
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I have tremendous respect for you for finding that vulnerability and for having the courage to show it by posting this poem. That is the essence of being a writer, being and artist. And it is so hard!!
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And oh my!! I just looked at the photos at the site you referenced. It makes my head hurt knowing all this is happening inside us. And the poetry the images are begging to have written!!!
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Jana this leaves me on the very edge of tears. I’m not sure if it’s because of the sheer beauty of it, or because of how well you have expressed your subject. The poem itself is remarkable, the closing lines… I realize as I read them one more time… they gather the entire poem and deliver it directly to the heart.
The poem brings different things to mind, not least of which was the loss of my father twenty some years ago. It also brought to mind one of my favourite stanzas of poetry, from an old and weathered Selected Poetry of Rainer Maria Rilke, translated by Stephen Mitchell. The poem is Orpheus. Eurydice. Hermes. The stanza comes after Hermes touches Eurydices’ arm to let her know that Orpheus had turned and as a result they too had to turn and return to the underworld… but she was okay with this as she had already become root… had loosened like long hair, poured out like fallen rain…
She had come into a new virginity
and was untouchable; her sex had closed
like a young flower at nightfall, and her hands
had grown so unused to marriage, that the god’s
infinitely gentle touch of guidance
hurt her, like an undesired kiss.
…….
a tenderness that registers the slightest wind
so vulnerable it stops breath from breathing
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Your response, Chris, is really a gift in so many ways. I’m going to spend a week on the coast, on retreat with just the ocean, and now want to take a book of Rilke’s poetry with me. This stanza takes me completely by surprise, it is so beautiful.
A question came to me awhile back which also took me by surprise. I realized I’d never asked, never wondered how Nature “feels” about our human relationship with it. In all Nature’s unending responsiveness we remain recalcitrant, destructive children. It opened up a doorway in me to begin living consciously with sorrow, with loss, beginning to learn the delicate balancing required. I’m not sure how I’m doing. It seems immense but possible….. xxxooo
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It sounds like you’ve entered a place of beauty Jana, albeit dark perhaps and uncertain. Maybe beauty is the wrong word, but I don’t think so. The ocean and it’s mate the sky such kin to the soul. I hope you enjoy your time there, though that kind of “retreat” can be intense (be careful). Another book to consider is Rilke’s Book of Hours, translated by Anita Barrows and Joanna Macy.
Thinking warmly of you.
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I hesitate to insert myself in this beautiful exchange, but there is so much here. Rilke is such a profound poet. I love the thought of you at the sea with Rilke, Jana. Strangely enough, I walked by the ocean this morning and had thoughts so similar to yours. My heart is terribly heavy seeing what we have done to our dear earth. I just wait for the sea to rise up and reset the relationship.
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I woke this morning Nadia, picturing “connections”….the connections we make between our self and others… like a “connect the dots by number” sketch and I wanted to put words to all these kinds of “connections”. It seems so singular, so linear, this connecting the dots, whether consciously or unconsciously we make them. Frail, wounded, sizzling, electrical, endearing, etc. Observing the patterns they make…
And then because of receiving your message this morning, you and I have the opportunity to engage so spontaneously, outside of time really, in this very same dialogue as if we’re sitting over our morning tea, engaging these musings so seamlessly. It’s a wonder!
I question my relationship here in the virtual world too. It is an extraordinary tool though. Perhaps to explore another way of being.
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I love the image of sitting over our morning tea musing together. Our minds seem to be following similar paths. I, too, wonder about virtual connectedness. It seems in some ways so strong, maybe because we are sharing thoughts about subjects deeply important to us, and yet so fragile because we don’t really know each other. But I am grateful for the moments of real connection and communication like this one.
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This is all of a one, a complete piece. I can’t pick lines out, as is my usual wont, saying ‘I like this’ etc. It took me from family to Bowie and Bambi. There is a heft here and I love it
The something other and the hearing more sensitive than sight reminded me of Poe. Yes, an emptiness filled.
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Thanks Brian…the poem came on like a freight train full of energy and metal. There was no way to step aside so I ran along with it until I could jump into an open box car for the ride…..
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😦 yes 🙂
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Thanks Bert…sometimes it’s good to just sit with it all.
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My heart goes out to you. This poem captures the deep pain of sorrow so exquisitely.
May your thirst be quenched.
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Thank you Sally….I use words like you play with color and shape to give voice to what moves in me. Fortunately, there’s plenty of water in the stream.
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grateful for plenty of water in the stream x
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Thank you Jana. Your exquisite expression touches me in that deep place where goneness still trembles, and always will…
❤
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Thank you Miriam…I’ve come to feel “loss” has its own voice echoing through all of us that speaks to the deepest part of being human. xxxooo
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Yes – and – while grief “speaks to the deepest part of being human” I now understand/experience it to be a non-personal voice… a cosmic choir in which we all sing, shout, chant, whisper our part.
❤
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Not to dwell in but not to shy from
Perhaps the root song of compassion?
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I feel you
And it touches me
My prayers and lite are with you
And above all Peace
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Sheldon, you really are a light!
Thank you for beaming it here…
I’m fine Sheldon…just touching gently
on the places that hurt.
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it’s good to get it out
the words and feelings were moving
I’ve been there myself
As always Sheldon
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“where hearing is more sensitive than sight” – I think I recognise that from when I lost my grandson five years ago, Jana, and I seemed to navigate more by echoes, internal and external, like a bat. A challenging piece, yet a most evocative one. H ❤
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Ah Hariod. Thank you. I can certainly relate to “batness” ….Sometimes I think that my eyes continue to navigate over the surface while my own internal sonar is what picks up the real signals!
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loss
is a solid
form
~
stillness
surrounding
shoreline
~
river
shaping
ice
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or
does the ice
shape
the river ?
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Water is ice
water is river
I am the shoreline
in all seasons
Beautiful Geo…thank you
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rubber boots
~
I stand
on the same spot
different seasons
~
sand, mud, branches
snow, ice, water
spawning salmon
~
this current
tickles my feet
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and then
we move
on
floating on rafts
of tears
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Thor Heyerdahl, John! Look what he did with a raft. A nice strong one though. Thank you, John. Just touching down into those places that cast the biggest shadows like storm clouds that loom but never seem to rain. xxoo
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My loss has passed through light and dark, weightless and heavy, anchored and in flight – this beautiful poem you have poured onto a static surface which now ripples like water.
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And here we are, Chris, balancing in the middle, hey? Playing with shadows in image and word…. making ripples in the stream. xxxooo
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Beautiful, Jana.
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Thank you Richard! As always… xxxooo
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Breathtaking.
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Thank you Mark…. fishing for sunfish in the deep pools
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the first line, repeated, speaks the truth. the last line is fitting in a poem that refers repeatedly to sound (or the lack of it). your poem is wonderfully crafted.
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Thank you Michael. I appreciate your saying so. Since joining a group of women poets I’ve become a bit more conscious of how a poem is forming.
In this poem I see the repetitious line as the “witnessing” line. Like sitting on a back porch catching the cool night air after a 90 degree day, everyone listening shaking their heads silently in witness of what I’m feeling.
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In your words I felt the rhythm of loss- how it has a unique cadence. Visceral- as it follows it’s own path through our being and all one can do is breathe and watch and wait. Beautiful poem. Beautifully stated.
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Thank you for reading….for taking a moment to comment.
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