My life–
How much more of it remains?
The night is brief.
–Masaoka Shiki
My hand traces invisible lines through each day.
Life has its endings, but I wonder again why and
how do we create so many boundaries? How
much do we know of what we call ourselves? And what
more is left, at this late date, to be discovered there?
Of what am I really thinking when, with sudden fear,
it seems that everything is impossible, that nothing
remains? Have I used it all up–the synapses firing,
the cells’ ability to regenerate rather than destroy? The
night and the day and the sky and the land? Why
is it so difficult to relocate the silence, that interlude of
brief completion when everything is being born again?
The NaPoWriMo prompt today is a reverse Golden Shovel poem–instead of placing the words from the selected poem at the end of each line and writing around it, the words are placed at the beginning. Either way, it’s a good way to approach writing when you’re stuck. I’ve chosen a haiku from Masaoka Shiki for my poem, but I’m adding a little afterward from Joan and Bob.
Tears of rage, tears of grief
Why must I always be the thief?
Come to me now, you know we’re so alone
And life is brief
–Dylan
Also for Muri’s prompt of a Golden Shovel poem with the theme of change.
K. 
This is so beautiful and reflective, Kerfe. Very thought-provoking and the art is beautiful.
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Thanjs Punam
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My pleasure.
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These are difficult questions and at times they seem impossible to answer. I always feel best when I’m in a place of acceptance.
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Thanks Ingrid. It’s certainly better not to fight it.
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Yes, that is a powerful question. When we already know the ultimate barrier, the buffers we’re all going to hit, why do we spend the time we have building more barriers and obstacles?
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We are a strange species.
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If only it was just eccentricity.
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Poignant and reflective, Kerfe. I think we ask these questions more as we get older.
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Thanks Merril, I’m sure that’s true.
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Yes, it does feel like some days. Lately, I’ve been treating myself to
artists dates (Julia Cameron- The Artists Way) – they really help lighten my mood. 🙂
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I’m glad Suzanne. I think I have that book, but I’m sure it’s packed away in storage. I had it at one time, anyway.
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Love it!! The Golden Shovel reversed is just as wonderful. And the searching for that moment that life is born anew – I call it the vagitus of dawn when the first birds sound the first notes of the day!!
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Thanks Muri–where would we be without birds?
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Ah, that last question… I love the suggestion of a reversed golden shovel as a means to break through a mental blockage, which I currently have for poetry (again). I will give it a try!
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Thanks Sun. I use variations of it all the time to get me going. Even just a few random words from something I read.
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Such a wonderful question “How / much do we know of what we call ourselves?”🍃 I keep trying to answer it and know I never will.
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I won’t either I fear. Thanks.
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such poignant deep questions set in a perfect poem with inspiring art and mournful song! Solemn and intriguing, why do we limit ourselves when the possibilities are truly endless 🙂
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Thanks Kate. I always have more questions.
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and I’ve spent decades seeking the answers 🙂
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I think that’s true for all of us!
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skillful – both invisible and then luminous, the hidden poem made all the more powerful by yours. and as always, thank you for sharing your wonderful art. ~
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Thanks M.
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