Fragile still

max ernst

~

Fragile like smog shadows rifling valleys

the mountain holds its breath

~

Fragile like feverish water

the ocean aborts the moon’s children

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Fragile like bees loosing direction

and stamens playing their last hands

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Fragile like children born overwhelmed

by viruses perplexed

~

Fragile still

like a flower 

self-sewing in the garden

in blooming will make no mistake

intelligence in its unfolding

~

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Artist: Max Ernst

7 responses

    • Thank you Chris…poetry does inform. I’ve come to count on its ‘sway’. Some of these poems lately, like this one, are older poems whose words have changed, as meaning deepens for me.

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  1. Jana, your fine words place me on a thin wafer edge of emotion I can’t name. Is it despair held together with a delicate ferrule of hope? I read with a gardener’s hands and fragile memories of a mother who believed in the unfolding intelligence of flowers. You sing a graceful elegy…

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    • Appropriate for the day then John. If this brought fond thoughts of your Mum, this makes me happy….

      As a gardener myself though, I’ve come to wonder how nature might be ‘feeling’ in response to the human part of its anatomy becoming such a bully. This poem is less about hope or despair, since it isn’t about me or how I feel. I’m cheering on the self-sowns, the hearty weeds that still bring medicine, the fine tuning balancing nature manages. I want nature to trust us again…so I navigate that thin wafer edge.

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  2. from my personal experience
    and the timing
    your poem flooded my heart
    ~
    may 13th
    would have been my son’s
    11th birthday
    ~
    the ocean
    aborts the moon’s children
    intelligence
    in its unfolding

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    • I wonder Geo, that the title of the poem says it all… fragile still. I have mourned with you, my friend, for your loss and I have healed with you for my own sorrows within the grace of this friendship. Thank you for letting me know this poem traveled so far… Love to you and yours, Geo, love to you and yours…

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