The ocean tides are calm and soothing as they gently rush up to the shoreline. Small crabs scuttle across the sand. The sky is clear and a warm breeze folds around me like a shawl.
I find myself sitting on a dock, though unsure of what boat brought me here. Its creaks and shifts in the currents, but feels sturdy. The wood worn and ragged in places - like me.
What brought me to this safe harbor?
Where do I go from here?
Perhaps I can stay here awhile, settle in to safety.
I love this, Jane. Your last stanza is so powerful: @What brought me to this safe harbor?/ where do I go from here?/perhaps I can stay here awhile, settle in to safety/find some healing in this unknown harbor.” Wow!
"Cocoon" has been my word for this month..I love your phrase "cocoon of stillness" Kaitlin so I started my poem today with these borrowed words. Thank you.
What a nice poem for the morning, Claire. “so that when I set sail/(and leave this harbor)I’ll be lighter and freer/And ready to explore.” Peaceful exploring to you.
As one whose mind forms "worst-case-scenarios-just-in-case" constantly, and who is learning to live in place after years of "living in the storm", your poem, resonates deeply.
This is poem I wrote on the idea of harbor last year.. I've made some small edits and am sharing it again today :)
I woke up this morning already feeling weary - and today's prompt and your last few lines are a harbor in themselves. May we all know our hearts are "tenderly loved, deeply rooted, and eternally held" ❤️
I have sheltered in many harbours.
Plenty of places have held me
when I couldn't find my way home,
when home itself didn't feel like safety,
when I didn't know how to welcome myself
back to solid ground. I know now.
Still, I'm so grateful for their steadying.
This is tremendous, thank you
I like this, A., and the notion of steadying. Thank you.
Harbor
Not immune to the vicissitudes of the storm,
But nonetheless a place of refuge.
Not built for solitary safety,
But capacious enough for many.
Not completely dry,
But grounded by the shore.
The shore with its lighthouse,
Calling to the lost, the fearful, the lonely, the weary.
Calling them to shelter in ‘the harbor they were bound for.’
somewhere
in a cool dark burrow,
prayers are knit like roots
hanging from the ceiling,
holding the fragrant walls
in place.
in the swaying reeds
at a distant lake’s edge,
there are silent constellations
of dreaming frog eggs that soon
will become song.
while everything is blown
and blistered by the howling world,
within it there are still
soft harbors for the tender heart
in the quiet burrows.
in the mud beneath the swaying reeds.
Oh, today is a day I need a soft harbor for a tender heart ❤️ thank you for this, Kate
This whole poem is a gentle journey into a safe place, thank you
I am so glad it felt that way, thank you for reading it
Wonderful imagery.
thank you dear one <3
This is remarkably beautiful Kate.
"soft harbors for the tender heart" sigh.
Thank you so much for sharing this.
The shoreline must be a mirage
She thought, staring into the black
Straining to discern whether
The shifting auras, reds and whites
In the distance
Were signs of her destination
Or whether, once again,
She had deceived herself
So accustomed she had become
To uncharted waters
Unending gales taking her from
Herself, this unfamiliar person
Who was becoming an expert
At dwelling in chaos
How she longed to take the rope
As the approaching harbor
Said don’t worry
You did it, after all
You knew the way
Your search is over
Yet also just beginning
Because here, you have found love.
Love this.
🙂.an expert at dwelling in chaos.🙂
yes! this line says so much.
I could not harbour them for long
They floated in not finding amble space
To alight
And they took root
First in the pit of my gut
Where they churned around
As I chewed on them like cud
They scratched their way up through my chest
Wrapped themselves around my heart
With plastic coating
So it couldn’t pump.
They spread themselves into my lungs
That breathing deeply hurt
A gasping fish on sand I had become.
My throat fell victim next
Where goitered glands did not allow in food.
But when they made it to my mind -
I turned them out
To find another prey.
Th words uttered to define me
Could not stay.
They may not harbour here.
They are not me.
I give the space instead
To poetry.
This is powerful and deeply moving. What evocative imagery and beautiful crafting of words. “ I give the space instead/to poetry.” Just superb!
Thank you, Larry. The care you take in reading and responding to us all is so deeply moving.
Thank you Margaret! I love reading all these varied and diverse poems, and am so impressed and moved by the quality and depth of everyone’s poems!
Finding a safe harbor to rest
I look around at my surroundings.
The ocean tides are calm and soothing as they gently rush up to the shoreline. Small crabs scuttle across the sand. The sky is clear and a warm breeze folds around me like a shawl.
I find myself sitting on a dock, though unsure of what boat brought me here. Its creaks and shifts in the currents, but feels sturdy. The wood worn and ragged in places - like me.
What brought me to this safe harbor?
Where do I go from here?
Perhaps I can stay here awhile, settle in to safety.
Find some healing in this unknown harbor.
I love this, Jane. Your last stanza is so powerful: @What brought me to this safe harbor?/ where do I go from here?/perhaps I can stay here awhile, settle in to safety/find some healing in this unknown harbor.” Wow!
Thank you!!
"Cocoon" has been my word for this month..I love your phrase "cocoon of stillness" Kaitlin so I started my poem today with these borrowed words. Thank you.
Harbour
My cocoon of stillness
Safe
Held in the stillness
I can rest a while.
What doubts,
Feelings or things
Am I harbouring
That I need to let go of?
In this time and space
I choose to let go
Of the things that no longer serve me
So that when I set sail
(and leave this harbour)
I'll be lighter and freer
And ready to explore.
What a nice poem for the morning, Claire. “so that when I set sail/(and leave this harbor)I’ll be lighter and freer/And ready to explore.” Peaceful exploring to you.
Yeah, sure, i get it
you're snug safe & calm in port.
But your sea legs bitch.
As one whose mind forms "worst-case-scenarios-just-in-case" constantly, and who is learning to live in place after years of "living in the storm", your poem, resonates deeply.
This is poem I wrote on the idea of harbor last year.. I've made some small edits and am sharing it again today :)
Pinion Harbor
He will cover you with His pinions,
And under His wings you will find refuge.
~Psalm 91:4
From the deluge
from the rage
from the fire
and the pain;
from all the weary
wandering and wondering
and unreasoning;
from this spot
to the farthest reaches
of that one question
lingering;
from yesterday’s
shame stumbling
on the steps of your soul;
in the throes of grief
unrelenting,
when darkness settles in,
laughter seeping
to the foundations
as hope finds footing
in the fissures
of forgotten dreams
there is space
in the place named
Pinion Harbor;
shelter.
This is remarkable and quite powerful, Aaron. It is a good companion for Psalm 91. May we all be lifted!
I once sought harbor
in you, but it was not there.
I found it within.
I woke up this morning already feeling weary - and today's prompt and your last few lines are a harbor in themselves. May we all know our hearts are "tenderly loved, deeply rooted, and eternally held" ❤️
Paddling open water,
Ocean, bay, big lake,
It is a joy and relief
To find the refuge
Of the harbor.
Most keenly in those times
when the waters are choppy,
white cap waves relentless
and every stroke requires steadfast
Intention and grounding in present moment.
The pull of the Harbor is an invitation to hope.
I am searching for those harbors now.
The maps, compass, signs and
Even the GPS
are unhelpful in this unfamiliar terrain,
this unknown and uncertain crossing
that threatens everything I know.
I am out here paddling.
Can you find me?
It is getting dark and
so hard to see.
My heart is tired and broken;
I am seeking the welcoming
harbor of home.
Can you see me?
Will you welcome me home?
That last stanza and your questioning feel so powerful.
Thank you A. The rolling seas can be so tiring.
I love this passion!
Thank you Gloria!
Harbor
A gray rock
above a gray sea
calm with wavelets:
Columba Bay Iona
where in 567 the Saint landed with his band of eleven
in sheltered water.
I came 3200 miles, 5270 kilometers to be here;
No saint, and with no band of friends.
Here mourning the loss of a father
Learning loneliness.
No boats or ships or docks, then or now.
Just sea-scrubbed smooth stones, bushes of gorse and heather,
grassy hills and rocky cliffs,
and the sea.
I sit on a rock with its feet in the sea;
I am still, an empty journal and a motionless pen in hand.
Yet my spirit flies untethered,
buffeted by the winds,
skittish as a colt.
Unnerved.
Something pulls my gaze to the sea beneath me.
A smooth gray head pokes above the water.
Wide round eyes stare up at me.
A whiskered nose.
A small harbor seal
swims around my rock
swims for an hour
accompanying my grief.
Loving me from another world.
It is my world. Safe.
Beautiful, Barbara!
This is beautiful, Barbara. Your portrayal of grief and place are so moving.
Ode to IYKYK
My favorite harbor
Sells me inexpensive tools
Iykyk
🤣 that's my dad's favourite, too
We live in the hope
that we weather this storm, and
come to safe harbor
Indeed we do. Thank you Kate.
A haven
A place to feel anchored
Sheltered for a while
A place to rest
A time to recover
To overcome the challenges
To wait out the upheaval
A time and place to be restored
anchored, yes!
What a beautiful place you conjure, Jane!