My ancestors linger in every word I say, the muted phrases and images that occupy the dreams in the sequestered corners of my mind, hesitating between darkness and light of day
My ancestors linger in the prayers left behind, unexpected melodies, songs upon the wind opening windows into transformed cloistered spheres, a fracturing of landscapes, the earth unconfined
My ancestors linger as seas on summer air, as darkness covering the winter of the year, as harvests of colors released by autumn’s trees, as cells that stir when spring awakens, reappears
I wrote this rubaiyat in 2019 for one of Sue Vincent’s photo prompts, above. It’s a year today she is gone. Looking back through all the art and poetry I did in response to her prompts, it’s clearly evident how much her spirit enlarged my work.
In my original post I wrote: I was repeating one of my grandmother’s sayings to myself, which made me think of all the ways I repeat and echo the members of my family. Probably in ways I don’t even realize, and further afield than I will ever understand.
Which flows right into the earthweal prompt, where Brendan has asked us to “write about what we care for and resemble, remembering that everything in the forest is the forest.“
My new window looks at rooftops architecture trees and sky. My new window opens to the continuous city work of maintenance and construction going from here to there and back again the voices of cars and dogs and humans and birds. My new window is busy.
After dark my new window sparkles with other windows imprinted on dark silhouettes. The night sky changes color and texture from hour to hour and the full moon wakes me as it shines its reflected secrets into my dreaming eyes. My new window is aware.
The NaPoWriMo prompt for today is to write about what you see through a particular window. This one is in the bedroom of my new apartment. I’m so happy I have such a good view of the moon, which has woken me up every clear night for the past week.
I did have the NaPoWriMo prompt in mind today when I visited the Oracle. At least in terms of a song. My things are mostly in boxes, not drawers, at the moment–this is my third move in the last 18 months so it’s all junk now. I was also thinking how much I would like to just take an entire day and do nothing but sleep. Which led me to James and Joni. And the Oracle obliged.
all I want is to sleep beneath a still sky– a shadow of whispered light on water moondreaming the wind
The mind sets itself, darkening, wandering through a self-contained maze.
But here’s the sun, shining on my face– melting the brittle brumal pathways that detour spirit.
In the middle of the afternoon, on a clear day, the sun shines between the buildings across the street right into my windows. The other day just as I took a break and lay down on my couch, savoring the warmth, this version of John Denver’s “Sunshine” came on the radio.
Which of course made me think of George Harrison’s “Here Comes the Sun”.