Full was the first word that jumped out at me from the Oracle, but in the end it didn’t fit into what she wanted me to say. But it works as a title I think.
When I’m looking for images to illustrate a poem I search through old posts. I found some of these photos when I searched for trees in memadtwo, from a trip I made to visit my brother and his wife when they were living in Asheville, NC. Like me, he’s moved a lot–after 15 years and 3 cities in North Carolina, they are on their way back to Ohio again. So I probably won’t get back to Asheville.
But the photos and my memories of the landscape fit with the mood of the Oracle.s words today.
when moonspirit walks between
listen like stones in the riverpath
follow deep rootblankets
through dark earth
resting at dawn
quiet beneath birdtendriled
We have welcoming blue skies today, although it is cold. But the Oracle, at least, is thinking ahead.
These photos were taken in March of 2016–March! not that far away–of Central Park, reflected in the windows of the Jewish Museum on Fifth Avenue.
are you dazzled
with green trees oceans
of air and sky
breathe in then out
surrounded by blueborn
mornings that spill
secrets and then
linking to earthweal open link weekend
I am looking for the parts of me I have lost. Where are they?
The invisible ones, I mean. Not the bones beneath skin, the blood red pulsing, not even the magic helix—no, the stuff that I can only sense inside my thoughts—the currents that should contain all those things that have lived through me, leaving their imprints on my past, on my wishes and dreams, on the choices I have yet to make.
My emptiness continues without plan or path. I recross myself and return over and over to the places I imagine I have already been.
Something sparkles in the branches, catching my attention. I glimpse light moving, connecting one thread to another, forming patterns. I breathe in my existence.
They have been waiting for me, kept in trust for my return—these memories were left here with the trees.
This is in response to another old photo prompt of Sue Vincent’s (above), from May. I did the art but never wrote anything to go with it. Merril’s prosery prompt at dVerse, to use Jo Harjo’s words, “These memories were left here with the trees” in 144 words of prose, reminded me of the photo, so I pulled out the painting again.