If I had been asked how many minutes I had been there, I could not have said. Time did not belong to this space; I could not measure it.
As a child I saw no contradiction in some afternoons expanding joyfully, while others stifled, impossible to escape. Growing up meant constructing arbitrary boxes to make things fit into the space we were allowed to have.
Ask the butterfly
how it transforms the air. Ask
the bird how its wings
capture light. Ask the bees
about the ancient magic
of their dance. Ask the
trees how it is that roots and
branches contain all
the maps needed to complete
the circle, sustain, abide.
Some days pass by and disappear as if they had never been. Some days live forever. Those are the days I seek.
For earthweal, where Sherry has asked about our wild heart.
Also linking to dVerse OLN, hosted by MsJadeLi.
K. 
Oh Kerfe, how incredibly perfect this poem is. Bless you. Your art is amazing, as always.
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Thanks Sherry, and also once again for your thoughtful prompt. (K)
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I like your reflections on time and memory. If only we could package the memories we want to keep in boxes that would keep them fresh and somehow recycle the others into pretty collages.
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Thanks Jade. We are all playing it by ear I think.
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You’re welcome.
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Lovely exploration…drawing to a truly beautiful close, with much sadness about not finding any distinction or differentiation between the two in childhood..
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Thanks Ain.
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And now I’m pondering the expanding and contracting of time and space… Love the poem and the collages!
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Thanks Muri. Time and space are endlessly ponderable, at least for me.
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I think this is one of my favorite posts of yours, including the musings, artwork, and poetry.
❤
David
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Thanks David. I’m sure watching your daughter’s childhood has made you think about your own as well.
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so much.
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This is so wonderful to read, Kerfe! I seek those days too. And I feel the same way about my own perception of time. There is something Blakean about this piece.
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Thanks Ingid. It’s high praise to be compared with Blake.
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This is so poignant, and so true, Kerfe. I really love this one. So many lines spoke to me, and the top collage manages a trompe l’oeil effect at the top left, I feels like a window I could walk through.
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Thanks Merril. It’s an old collage I did for one of Colleen’s prompts, but I didn’t remember it al all. It fit perfectly with this poem.
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It really does.
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“Time did not belong to this space; I could not measure it.”
Sometimes we spend so much time just to measure time.
Your art and poem are wonderful.
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Thanks Punam. Time does dictate to us too often.
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Too often…I agree. You are welcome.
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The days that live forever, they are the days to seek as they are bookmarked in our hearts and memories.
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Indeed they are.
I was unable to comment on your blog, but you describe a journey well worth taking.
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What a lovely sentiment.
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Thanks Suzanne.
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Love how you describe “growing up.” Arrival means productive and happy ad-libbing. We become wild.
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Thanks Brendan. I’m not sure why we wish our lives to be tame. It doesn’t work, even when we pretend it does.
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Sone days live in our mibds forever. Bless they be good ones.
Thanks for dropping by my blog
Much love
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Thanks Gillena.
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Maybe the difference between child and adult, wild and tame, is that we insist on controlling, deciding what is allowed to exist, what works and what doesn’t. The child and the natural world just accept that what is, is.
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I think that’s true. We think we can make things as we wish them to be, which is a losing game.
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Putin is the living proof.
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He’d be better as the late proof.
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There must be one Kremlin official with a conscience, and a gun.
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One hopes. At least I do.
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If the American drones can take out terrorist leaders in desert hideouts, can’t they get inside a well-marked building?
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I was thinking that just this morning.
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I can’t believe it’s not possible.
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This is beautiful, Kerfe, almost like a complement to my poem. All that is missed, but still could be.
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Thanks Ken. Let’s hope we can find our way back.
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This is incredibly gorgeous writing! I especially love; “Ask the butterfly how it transforms the air. Ask the bird how its wings capture light.”❤️❤️
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Thanks Sanaa.
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those are the days with wings, so they can fly and return to us in memory. were that I less mud-stuck, with memories that could so uplift in these darkening days ~
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A carefree day is hard to come by these days.
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The narrative voice begins in quite a conversational way, which makes its depth all the more vivid–and the stanzas following are perfect examples of showing, not telling what is meant to be conveyed. Those days are the diamonds in our lives, and we know them by that shine.
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We do. May we all find more of them.
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This is a gorgeous write from start to finish, K, all of it. But if I had to pick some favourite lines, these:
“As a child I saw no contradiction in some afternoons expanding joyfully, while others stifled, impossible to escape.”
“Ask the
trees how it is that roots and
branches contain all
the maps needed to complete
the circle, sustain, abide.”
❤
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Thanks Sunra. The world is full of wonder.
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Love the way you put that growing up into context… there is something immensely sad with those who never does.
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That’s true. Thanks Bjorn.
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