"Fences containing the moment." ❤️ How many fences have I constructed in my life to shield me from the discomfort of the miraculous? I loved that line, really made me think.
I don't have a poem to share but reflecting on this prompt and Kaitlin's poem, and reading everyone's contributions inspired me to do some journaling, so perhaps this is will be the way I participate this week. Thank you for this experience, Kaitlin, and thank you, everyone else for sharing your art. Poetry is powerful, mysterious, and beautiful.
Being comfortable
With being uncomfortable
Knowing I’ll never know
What emerges next
There is a cosmic melody
Whose notes may seem new
Within an ethereal symphony
Orchestra of life
Conducted by death
beautiful!
Thank you both Kaitlin and Julie. I do not really consider myself a poet but sites like this are very encouraging to just write what springs forth.
I second that!
Every step I take
I have never taken it before.
Each breath I breathe
I have never breathed before.
Yet a mask of familiarity
encases my experience.
Fences containing the moment.
Blinders keeping in the ordinary.
The scenery around me that
I have come to anticipate.
.
Yet unexpected moments come.
Some like a slap in the face.
Others a wake up a call.
Then there are these cherished
ones that leave me in awe.
Either way the unfamiliar
has come a calling.
What will I do with this
precious moment?
.
What if I truly saw every
juncture as it honestly is?
No matter how it shows up.
No matter the story-line.
Just being present
with myself, with life.
Understanding that...
Each heartbeat, is a gift of life.
Every step, a threshold crossed.
Each inhale, breathtaking!
"Fences containing the moment." ❤️ How many fences have I constructed in my life to shield me from the discomfort of the miraculous? I loved that line, really made me think.
Yes! Wonderful contemplation.
The blue grosbeak appeared from the cornfield
like a dream.
My mind tried to pin it to a species I already knew
even as I slammed on the brakes,
my bike scattering gravel—
A particularly small grackle?
A cowbird looking blue in the evening light?
But it glowed with a blue all its own,
and flitted across the trail
where it vanished into the cottonwoods.
Later my bird guide put a name on it
and I marveled, 'cause I'd always wanted to see one.
I wrote down the event
as something good that happened in a shitty, shitty week.
May I always welcome the unfamiliar
with the delight I welcomed the grosbeak.
This is do sweet, tender and surprising, Lisa! Good things can happen on the bike!
Thanks so much! I really treasure my time spent on a bike, getting out away from the hustle of town.
Love this. I had a butterfly sighting once during a dark, dark season that this reminded me of.
Moments like that are so important to hold onto! Seeing nature helps get me out of my head when I'm feeling harried or anxious.
I love it when a light flicks on under a pile of poop 🙂
Me too! Birds are particularly good at doing that for me. :)
I am the last leaf to unfurl in spring,
Huddled close in darkness,
Averse to the risks of sunlight.
I am the last bud to welcome summer,
Closed as a fist,
Dreading the tender pain
Of opening.
I am the last leaf to release in fall,
Clinging to my mother's hand,
Hoping to stall the embrace of the earth.
You would think
I'd have learned by now
That the next story is always best welcomed
With a brave, soft cheek, a clean apron, and open hands.
So beautiful. Thank you!
Loved this!
A clean apron..... ha.....
I admire
those
who can be
strong
in the face
of uncertainty
and regret
that I am not.
The holy ones say
that the weak
are in fact
strong.
If so,
there may
be hope
for me.
I don't know
I don't know how to do this alone
I don't know where to turn for help
I don't know what to do next
I don't know what will happen to me now
I have known this way for so long
The familiar routines
The familiar faces
The familiar way each day goes
I don't know how to be
In this new unfamiliar chapter
That lies ahead
Amen
don't be faint-hearted.
the alpha of everything
dawns unfamiliar.
yes.
My grandma knew
the trees by name—
which is different
than knowing the names
of the trees. I didn't
pause to learn them all
from her, but mostly
listened to her love and
watched her shake ash
from the lipsticked
cigarettes she held
like talismans against
her fear.
*
For fifteen years, now,
every stranger's tobacco,
every flower and tree,
whispers her memory
and a song of how much
we can't yet know.
*
Today I smell neighbors'
bonfires and know
autumn arrives,
as the geese overhead
announce, as my
dry knuckles and
cinnamon hopes
suggest, and my kids'
first sniffly cold
of the year.
*
Who can say what
comes next? I seek
to gentle my heart
in the unknowing, to
breathe with all
that is beyond me—
even as I begin
to ask the trees
their names.
This was so tender and lovely. Thank you for this gift.
Beautiful!
Lovely. Thank you for sharing.
"with everything I have, with nothing
in my hands"
these lines! Thank you. <3
She in unfamiliar,
this soft body that ebbs and flows
with the moon
Those that resided inside of her
have softened more than just abdomen.
Heart, inner dialogue, resistance,
empathy and creativity,
all stand taller and smoother.
She is unfamiliar,
but she is not unknown.
These pieces come forth from the depths,
like buried truths or treasure.
Dug out by those who only knew her
from the inside first.
"Dug out by those who only knew her from the inside first." YES!
It comes in gasps
in the sea of uncertainty
gasps of purifying air
and bitter sea water
What to spit out
what to keep
the edges of safe and unsafe
blur
The more I flail
the worse I flail
waiting for a hand
to lift me out
When all I have to do
is lay back
ride the waves
and breathe
I don't have a poem to share but reflecting on this prompt and Kaitlin's poem, and reading everyone's contributions inspired me to do some journaling, so perhaps this is will be the way I participate this week. Thank you for this experience, Kaitlin, and thank you, everyone else for sharing your art. Poetry is powerful, mysterious, and beautiful.