Today’s prompt at the Writer’s Digest poetry blog is to write an odd poem. I was feeling uninspired, so I decided to just started typing and let myself mostly free-associate. It ended up not really being as odd as I thought it might be, and it kind of hangs together surprisingly well. I think I sort of made up a story. . .
the last thing
she said before she left
was something about
how memory evades interpretation
how the ends don’t always
justify the meanings
how the sparkle in your eyes
seemed to have dimmed over time
because of the way the Old Ones
never wanted to reveal themselves
the first thing she said
when she returned was
that she had never known anyone
who reminded her so much
of her long-lost lover as you
on the day when you stood
in the dark garden and swore
allegiance to the moon
the way she looked at you
the way she her eyes drifted off
to the side of the frame when you
took that portrait someone hung
in the gallery on the corner
of Seventh and Lime
the way you could never seem
to say her name without
the briefest pause beforehand
as though you were forgetting
or reluctant to commit the act
of resurrecting her memory
Gratitude List:
1. We saw one of the white squirrels in Palmyra today! It was in a yard with two crows. It looked like they were having a meeting
2. Chocolate cake. I am working so hard to keep my sugar under control, but I am also not living a life of complete self-deprivation, and that was good cake
3. I think I am mostly over the achiness of the Covid/flu vaccine double whammy
4. Just hanging out here with the kid and the cats
5. Pumpkin soup and sauteed cauliflower
May we walk in Beauty!
“It is fabled that we slowly lose the gift of speech with animals, that birds no longer visit our windowsills to converse. As our eyes grow accustomed to sight they armour themselves against wonder.” —Leonard Cohen
Denise Levertov:
Don’t say, don’t say there is no water
to solace the dryness at our hearts.
I have seen
The fountain springing out of the rock wall
and you drinking there. And I too
before your eyes
found footholds and climbed
to drink the cool water.
The woman of that place, shading her eyes,
frowned as she watched–but not because
she grudged the water,
only because she was waiting
to see we drank our fill and were
refreshed.
Don’t say, don’t say there is no water.
The fountain is there among its scalloped
grey and green stones,
it is still there and always there
with its quiet song and strange power
to spring in us,
up and out through the rock.
Ring the bells that still can ring
Forget your perfect offering
There is a crack in everything
That’s how the light gets in.
—Leonard Cohen
“Remember that day in the woods
when everything was so dark, so dreary
and you were so terrifyingly alone?
How can it be that these are the same woods
and you the same soul
and everything shines so,
and everything is filled with life?” —Beth Weaver-Kreider
“Acquiring problems is a fundamental human need. It’s as crucial to your well-being as getting food, air, water, sleep, and love. You define yourself–indeed, you make yourself–through the riddles you attract and solve. The most creative people on the planet are those who frame the biggest, hardest questions and then gather the resources necessary to find the answers.” —Rob Brezsny
“We are free-falling into the future on a bed of broken symbols.” —attributed to Joseph Campbell
“We aren’t disturbing the peace. We’re disturbing the war.” —protest sign
Rabbi Nachman of Bratslav: “The whole world is a very narrow bridge, but the most important part is not to be afraid.”
Mockingbird Chronicles 