Your poem makes me rethink the bitter memory when it hadnt been more than 30 minutes after my sister died and the eyebank was calling me wanting beth's eyes, and i think i cussed them out. With some good navy words. But she sees. And again. Not so bitter. So thank you.
Yes, Jim. The same with me. The necessity, of which you and I are painfully aware, is that time is of the essence for organs and tissue after death. The organ procurement group that called me handled it well, although it was of course unbelievably painful. Peace,
What if we saw the world as we?! This makes me think of something Patty Krawec writes about in her latest book, Bad Indians Book Club. She describes the difference between the 'we' that is me and you and the 'we' that is us but not you. And your's is the 'we' that is we with the trees and earth and birds and songs.
Beautiful, uplifting vision for me. Where I sit this morning after a night of camping near the shores of Lake Michigan I hear your words reverberate through our family!💕
Thank you, Fauna! It's really lovely to have words echoed back. I wrote a piece yesterday about seeing things again through the eyes of another. I think that's what we do here.
I'm glad poppy stayed with you. Did you see the poem written in one of these threads by an English poet who also wrote about the poppies as mementos of war?
Thank you, Margaret. No, I must have missed it… I fell out of step with the gorgeous Liminal poets during a particularly busy week, but I’ll look for it now.
(I wrote this series of Haiku this morning before the prompt arrived. It is a vision of mine and inspired by some art journalling I did this time last year. It makes a little more sense if I write more of the back story to the art. I am toying with the idea of sharing it in my next Substack post, along with the art. So far I've only posted my poems in this little safe corner of Substack, so we'll see if I can manage enough courage for making this one more public! Thank you for being such an encouraging audience! )
I would like to join the book club! I'm a paid subscriber. Do I need to do anything else to join? How much of the book should I plan to read between sessions?
Six decades in, does this corporal entity need a lofty Vision Statement? I’d rather focus on the here and now.
I’m told I have a good eye, and it is true that every outing is a treasure hunt for what I call “eye candy”, mostly wild, often not standardly beautiful. My favorite stage of flowers is when they are spent, petals withered, intricate innards revealed, essence desiccated. I hope my photos encourage noticing with soft eyes and a poetic lens. Awe and wonder include the simple, the small, and the ordinary—always available especially when I am feeling very small and the world is anything but simple.
I am on my way
to eye surgery.
Left eye today.
Right eye two weeks ago.
When my young daughter
Died. Tragically,
I donated her eyes.
Today, she lived again
And again. Snd again.
Dwight Lee Wolter
Dwight, holding space for you today.
Your poem makes me rethink the bitter memory when it hadnt been more than 30 minutes after my sister died and the eyebank was calling me wanting beth's eyes, and i think i cussed them out. With some good navy words. But she sees. And again. Not so bitter. So thank you.
Yes, Jim. The same with me. The necessity, of which you and I are painfully aware, is that time is of the essence for organs and tissue after death. The organ procurement group that called me handled it well, although it was of course unbelievably painful. Peace,
Dwight Lee Wolter
Shalom
That's beautiful, Dwight. If this is about an experience you are having today, I hope all goes well.
To be surrounded by great beauty
and to never see it…
.
To see the harm done to others daily
and to never see it…
.
To lose sight of loving others
and to never see it…
.
To have one’s own sight threatened
by cataracts, glaucoma or macular degeneration
and to not want to know it
and yet I must consider it…
.
Cataracts removed three years ago…
best vision I have had in years.
The threat… the watchful waiting with
both ophthalmologist and retinologist.
.
But there are so many other
diseases of the eyes
that threaten vision.
.
Vision is far more than
what we can or cannot see.
.
What of the seers, the sages,
the ones you see beyond the veil?
.
What of the gifted who see auras
and visions that are beyond sight?
.
There is so much to vision
and yet there are those who will never see it.
I loved when I learned that seeing and knowing grow from the same root in Greek. When we allow ourselves to see is when awareness is born.
Silly Childhood Vision
Some people think I’m crazy
And this is how I know
They treat my simple acts of grace
As muddy melting snow
You can’t do that, I hear them say
Your vision is too clear
You think your kindness and your love
Can wash away our fear?
What if… for just one moment
We saw the world as “we”
The trees, the earth, the birds, the songs
Together dancing free?
What if the things
we see as different
Really make us more complete?
Then would my dream for Peace on Earth
Be one each child could meet?
What if we saw the world as we?! This makes me think of something Patty Krawec writes about in her latest book, Bad Indians Book Club. She describes the difference between the 'we' that is me and you and the 'we' that is us but not you. And your's is the 'we' that is we with the trees and earth and birds and songs.
Oh, this quote!! Thank you for that!
Beautiful, uplifting vision for me. Where I sit this morning after a night of camping near the shores of Lake Michigan I hear your words reverberate through our family!💕
Thank you, Barbara! I love this! Waiting for August for a family camping trip. Enjoy every moment! ☀️🥰
Love this!
In every place I’ve lived on my own
where the position of the bed was not dictated
by a piece of wall or corner of the room,
I’ve made the headboard of my sleeping place
the glass that separates the in from out.
When nights are in that threshold space
at the turnings of the year
I drift to sleep to the sound of the stillness
and wake to the language of communal cheer.
-
One day I languished in the liminal space.
Night kissed goodbye to the dawn.
And their love was wrapped in dancing colors
of greens and pinks that made me pray
to know the cover of such a blanket.
-
Up and working and feeding the dog
with the news as the background to my play,
they named my vision
as a sighting of the lights from northern parts
and solar flares
and for a moment
I thought
How special
I saw it, and I didn’t know.
But no.
I trust my visions when they come
not named, defined by others.
The simple sights and what they mean,
just mine
for me
to grow.
This is so beautifully engaging.
“Night kissed goodbye to the dawn and their love was wrapped in dancing colors of greens and pinks… Such a blanket…
I keep reading this and seeing more and more each time. Thank you.
Thank you, Fauna! It's really lovely to have words echoed back. I wrote a piece yesterday about seeing things again through the eyes of another. I think that's what we do here.
Vision
What is your vision for the future?
Where do you see yourself in five years?
How can I know?
What can I say?
When the worries of today
cloud the view
When the pressures of today
block the way
When the stresses of today
blind my sight
What is my vision for the future?
To be able to see clearly
To make space to appreciate the view
To find time to gaze into the distance
And open my eyes to notice
the beauty of each moment
set the table
Kaitlin, thank you for the opportunity to learn from Camille. What a bio! A beautiful piece of writing in itself.
Is vision seeing with eyes?
Or is it seeing with the soul?
The soul sees with searing clarity
It discerns falsehood and truth
It alerts the seer to danger and help
The world is not the same.
To see with the soul takes practice
It needs meditation and prayer
In the silence to understand one’s self
Then to be able to forget it
And listen to the still small voice
Listening is the difficult part
For the words are given but
Dare you question whether they true and apt
For bravery is required to speak
Not knowing whether the listener will
Deride or accept your words
Vision, seeing with the soul
Is the prophetic voice
The dangerous road
But the truest one.
FJT 21/5/2026
I love the play of see and sear and seer!
last year, as June began to declare herself
open to strawberry revels, and the promises of solstice dreams
I encountered poppy
all her rebellious red
her testicular buds
her Barbie pink sisters growing from the same stem
these flowers, a memento of war
from a century past, fought on ancestral soil
there are no family stories of a Flanders generation
my battles are waged over email
with children and their moods
with the darker forces beneath it all
that could cause so much despair
in minds and hearts so tender, so young
legacies of all the wars fought
against children, women, the land
and all those who held it before
but I'm speaking of flowers
not societal and cultural annihilation
the poppy is home, the poppy is us
there is an exotic wilt to her lavish crimson
but her beauty is a homely one
when you look close and let her see you clearly
last year, on a summer when i wasn't writing
I encountered poppy
and ever since, she's been helping me live this story
so i could tell it today
I'm glad poppy stayed with you. Did you see the poem written in one of these threads by an English poet who also wrote about the poppies as mementos of war?
Thank you, Margaret. No, I must have missed it… I fell out of step with the gorgeous Liminal poets during a particularly busy week, but I’ll look for it now.
Testicular
Testicular. Not a typo!
If you ever have a chance to spend time with a poppy, you can’t unsee it!
🙂
Observe that you notice
what you look for.
Perception is shaped
through inherited frames.
By now I can spot
shortsighted deception
and see more clearly
the illusion of separateness.
I don’t want a meaningless mirage
having stumbled upon pockets of perspective.
I’ve garnered glimpses of union
which I long to magnify.
Our lenses have limits–
can we help each other feel
seen as we polish
and adjust accordingly?
Sometimes i forget what i am looking for.
I love the feel/seen on different lines.
Can we help each other feel.
and feel seen.
Camille's poem stirs many thoughts. Thank you
Vision~
Through my eyes I see
But not always clearly
Through my mind I gather what could be
A reality for you and for me
Not everyone has the heart to bring it into being
The unseen dream that builds and never tears down
The holy
The sacred
The unspoken
It all becomes life
And no longer a thought suspended in space
It is Real
Beautiful!
Pentecost room
extend the table
beyond your comfort zone and
hunt for extra chairs
pick some peonies
like words of welcome for all
a blooming blessing
stitch a table cloth
with your passion and longing
and let there be love
open the window
expect the unexpected
wind that fans your flames
gather in one place
and be prepared to wait for
the Guest who will come
a Guest bearing gifts:
an overflowing fruit bowl
of love, peace and joy
and there's something for
each person present, labelled
by name. For me too
dare I unwrap it,
know I am not an island,
desire is not lost?
(I wrote this series of Haiku this morning before the prompt arrived. It is a vision of mine and inspired by some art journalling I did this time last year. It makes a little more sense if I write more of the back story to the art. I am toying with the idea of sharing it in my next Substack post, along with the art. So far I've only posted my poems in this little safe corner of Substack, so we'll see if I can manage enough courage for making this one more public! Thank you for being such an encouraging audience! )
I would like to see the art that gies with this.🙂
Coming later today!😊
I hope you do share it. Would love to see the art that goes with these words!
Thank you Margaret. It's in my drafts . . . let's see if it gets to the publish stage!
I would like to join the book club! I'm a paid subscriber. Do I need to do anything else to join? How much of the book should I plan to read between sessions?
Thanks so much for your writing!
Hi Michael! Thank you for asking!
All you need to do is buy the book, read the sections and show up :)
I’m sharing below the latest paid post, which shares a breakdown of what we will cover at each session. Hope this helps!
https://kaitlincurtice.substack.com/p/zoom-links-and-details-for-book-club?r=1via3
vision
the young will have visions
and the old will dream dreams
what is the difference?
I have had both
I have also
had fantasies
and nightmares
fantasies belong unfulfilled
they don't live up to the hype
and nightmares are only
more terrifying when lived
you can't die in a nightmare
but true life will kill us all eventually
but visions and dreams
will outlive us when true and pure
our visions and dreams
may sustain us through hard times
but our believe in them
will inspire others
especially younger generations
(though not as soon as we would like)
that is the way that they will be fulfilled
when slowly, brush stroke by brush stroke
things take shape
at the same time as
the filter of reality
is wiped clean of
false idols
then one day
vision and reality
blend together
to become
Six decades in, does this corporal entity need a lofty Vision Statement? I’d rather focus on the here and now.
I’m told I have a good eye, and it is true that every outing is a treasure hunt for what I call “eye candy”, mostly wild, often not standardly beautiful. My favorite stage of flowers is when they are spent, petals withered, intricate innards revealed, essence desiccated. I hope my photos encourage noticing with soft eyes and a poetic lens. Awe and wonder include the simple, the small, and the ordinary—always available especially when I am feeling very small and the world is anything but simple.
Glasses in 4th grade:
“She squints at the board and needs to be seated in the front row.”
Whisked away to the ophthalmologist with fretting over my eye piercing incident the prior year.
Beige little cat eyes perch on my nose, a kind of 50’s look without the glam.
I AM the one with glaaaas-es spoken as if a contagion.
Recess teases and tears,
Incessantly lost in the swim pool crowd.
YET, Earth consoles with veins on verdant tree leaves,
With blue lake edges on a lavender horizon.
Abundance praised by
those designed to see between the lines.
I love this! ♥️