I was completely uninspired by yesterday’s “Write a license poem” prompt, and so I left it, again, until the last minute, and here I am the next morning, awakened by cats and a disturbing dream, writing yesterday’s poem. I decided to write a blessing for a new driver.
Blessing for a New Driver by Beth Weaver-Kreider
May you be wise behind the wheel. May your eyes be clear and undistracted. May you feel your freedom hitched to real responsibility. May you be safe. May you be safe. May you be free.
Triangle: The Spell, The Sleep, The Waking
by Beth Weaver-Kreider
First is the spell, the incantation, the bright blessing.
First is the curse of the jealous fairy.
First is the vain step-mother, the anxious interloper.
First is the dawn of the golden child.
First is three wishes and a wild, wild wind.
Second is when she loses the golden ball of her voice.
Second, the falling asleep.
Second is ball gowns and tea cakes.
Second is the pampered pedestal.
Second is a red bird in a golden cage.
Third, the clocks booms midnight.
Third, the wolf howls.
Third, the cock crows.
Third, the red rider races across the pathway.
Third, she opens her eyes.
“Mercy is the willingness to enter into the chaos of another.” –James Keenan
“The heavens are sweeping us along in a cyclone of stars.” –Teilhard de Chardin
Expose yourself to your deepest fear. After that, you are free.” –Jim Morrison
“You need not wade through the mists and bogs to reach the moon.
You need not climb a ladder of cobweb.
You need not ride the stallions that wicker in the sea’s pounding surf.
Draw back the curtain and open the window.
Breathe the bracing air and listen:
The whinny of an owl, the click of the bat,
The grunt of a buck and the distant roar of the train.
The full moon will spill a milky road before you.
That is all the pathway you will need.”
Joseph Campbell: “The cave you fear to enter holds the treasure that you seek.”
Gratitude List: 1. Robins gathering in the hollow in the growing dusk
2. Russet. Nice word. Nice color.
3. The steeples of Wrightsville. This really is a lovely little town nestled into the hills of York County.
4. Falling leaves. Rilke’s poem really got into me. There’s nothing quite like translation to put a poet inside your head.
5. Moon moon moon moon mooooooooooooon