blessing

blessing s

We gather together. We close our eyes, unlearning the darkness.

We are listening to what happens. When we don’t interfere, when we let go, unbe, untry.  When we release our expectations.

We hold everything as if it weighed nothing, as if it could fit into anything at all.

What we are.  Not what we think.  Not what we want.  Not what we fear.

The stillness of grace,
carried by stars on the wings
of birds.  We listen.

For a trio of prompts–Frank asked for thoughts about Thanksgiving in his #haikai challenge this week, and for thoughts about gratitude in his haibun prompt for dVerse.  Colleen  in her #TankaTuesday prompt also referred to the theme of Thanksgiving.

blessing close up s

Thanksgiving at my grandparents’ was loud and chaotic–numerous adults and sometimes 11 children vying for attention.

But we never ate any meal at their house without first becoming quiet and giving thanks.  It’s a ritual that perhaps deserves a revival.

sunriseset

sunriseset s

Children grow
wings, flying high, far–
in the wake
we wait for
yesterday to catch up with
what they have become

Sunriseset–
the pattern of days
opening
and closing,
the inside of the circle
empties and refills

Repeating
our footsteps, echoed,
mirrored, but
not the same–
the outlines rearranging
beginning to end

Sunriseset–
the pattern of days
opening
and closing,
the inside of the circle
empties and refills

landscape-linda colleenImage by enriquelopezgarre from Pixabay

For Colleen’s #tankaTuesday photo prompt, above, selected by Linda Lee Lyberg.  I’ve been looking at the image, trying to decide if it was a sunrise or a sunset in order to focus my words.  This made me think of the iconic song from Fiddler on the Roof, “Sunrise Sunset”.  Frank’s prompt at dVerse, to compose something in imitation of something else, made me think about trying to capture the essence of the song in a shadorma chain that also reflected the artwork.

sunriseset close up s

Fiddler on the Roof resonates more than ever in these times, when so many are homeless, driven from their literal and spiritual homes by money, politics, war, ignorance, power and greed, when so many are left abandoned, wandering or imprisoned.  A world that offers few peoples and places that will welcome refugees and attempt to heal the empty spaces, few places that are not afraid of strangers, of humans who are not exactly like them.

This scene in the play never fails to move me:  in dark times, there is still a place to come together in hope, to light a candle, to dream.

An antidote to my poem posted on The Ekprastic Review today.

 

 

Poem up at The Ekphrastic Review

end of the day s

My poem “(at the) end of the day” was among those chosen to accompany the painting  “Fin de la Jornada”, by Emilio Boggio, at The Ekphrastic Review.  You can see the artwork and read it, along with Merril Smith’s prose poem “Chromatic Scales” and the rest of those selected, here.

end of the day close up s

My thanks once again to editor Lorette C. Luzajic, and guest editor Janette Schafer, for supporting my work and the interaction between the visual and written arts.

windfall

windfall s

windfall magnetic

I haven’t had such an effortless message from the Oracle in a long time.  It reminded me of my favorite Sun Volt song, “Windfall”.

 

And as always, it’s a message I need.  Poetry, lyrics, music, song.

windfall close up s

“sing”
said time

the storm’s blood is like
wind music

the sky wants us to
light up these rain shadows
with seas of blue stillness

swimming around the moon

 

From One to the Next (Part 2)

lunation s

She talks to
me but the voice casts
no words, just
spinning the
same sounds over and over
without an ending.

All at once
she disintegrates,
becomes air,
a shadow
overlapping itself with
illumination.

She seems lost
in a space beyond
time—alone
she dances,
an untamed ocean dazzling
color into light.

Bjorn has asked us at dVerse to try changing our point of view–I took a poem from 2018 written in first person and became the observer, watching the original narrator and attempting to describe what I saw.  I think I observe situations and animals or landscapes in poems sometimes, but not often actual people, because it definitely felt awkward.  Still, I think I managed to keep the original feeling.

lunation close up s

You can see the first version of this poem here.