~
There is a mountain
within me
An inheritance
that has now become a polished stone
nestled in flesh,
in blood rich organ
~
A nameless sadness, it nestles close
real as the moon’s rise,
born within
a pit in the stomach
a seed in the heart
~
“Take this strange sorrow from me. It is bottomless,” I cry
as I walk up and down
the mourning side of my mountain.
~
At the top of the mountain
I yodel like a fool…
sounds and sobs issue with spittle and tears
I send my voice out
until breathless
~
But not spent
~
In the quieting down
I understand this weight is a broken seam
that can not be healed
It is the rend in the garment
of the turning in and the turning away from.
~
This broken seam can only be mended
cauterized by the flame that burns
in an open heart
~
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Artist: Johan Christian Dahl 1821
this broken seam, scar tissue, polished white line through lush landscape; a nameless sadness real as the moonrise… nourishing the flame that mends. mountain stone moon… Jana yodelling like a harp string.
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The hills are alive Chris….! oh my…I needed a laugh. Your beautiful poetic echo though, fills me with sweetness xxoo
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As so often with your poems Jana I keep going back to the beginning and reading it again and again. Amazing.
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It always impresses me that you find this here Mark. I’m very grateful…
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I can’t improve on Chris’ comment. It inspired.
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I know…Chris’s responses are beautiful echos. Thank you Petru….
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we’re the dragon
evolving energies
nourishing flames
~
iron rich blood
steams the surface
bubbling lava
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I see… a bit of middle earth here. And perhaps a bit of Viking. LOL Thank you Geo.
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I hear you in and between your words. I’d forgotten how freeing it is to yodel like a fool at the top of a mountain…
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Yes John, it can be a very ebullient catharsis pitching one’s voice into forever…. xxoo
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How exquisite. Thank you.
Giving love to that mountain.
PS just remembered a Yodelling is Power sign I photographed and shared in a recent blog.
The one called ‘Oh Give me a Home’ xxx
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Thank you Sally…
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“There is a mountain within me, an inheritance that has now become a polished stone,”
“The broken seam that can only be mended by the flame that burns in an open heart.”
A wonderful poem all of it and I can’t resist pasting the quote below of which there are many beautiful images on the web, of broken pots mended with gold, the Japanese art of Kintsugi.
When the Japanese mend broken objects, they aggrandize the damage by filling the cracks with gold. They believe that when something’s suffered damage and has a history it becomes more beautiful.” Quote by ― Barbara Bloom
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It is so good to have you back here Teri…. and thank you for bringing Kintsugi to mind. Being a devoted recycler, I’ve applied this “repairing” method myself with many different things. I like the analogy here. It feels “organic”.
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Magnificent…
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Thank you Brian… this one moved me in ways I never expected, but have always known.
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