Good morning. Yes, it is morning where I am. Most likely afternoon and heading towards evening near you. May the days and nights for you be blessed and encouraging going forward this new week. And evermore.
At the moment, my creative life is a bit dulled. Im listening to books on tape to fill my mind with imaginative feasting. I chanced upon Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn’s The Gulag Archipelago 1918-1956 while reading a June 2018article written in First Things.
Two hours into the book and several poems popped out at me. I love to listen 🎧 and take notes 📝. It helps greatly with my concentration and my comprehension. The takeaway from the first two chapters? Nefarious ideas in the wrong hands are dangerous. Every heart bleeds dark.
How to tell the truth.
the pottery, thrown from the cupboard lay in pieces, a heap to bury laughter of the past
they hurry you to frighten you
their names slip into insanity forever vanished from blue sky broken branches of a dying tree
shaking dumping the crunch of littered leaves under foot
notice the still orange flower silent repression without the freedom to rise caught in light rays turning future seeds into prisons
the passing of past into future without a map now becomes silent paths in the gardener’s hands
“If only it were all so simple! If only there were evil people somewhere insidiously committing evil deeds, and it were necessary only to separate them from the rest of us and destroy them. But the line dividing good and evil cuts through the heart of every human being. And who is willing to destroy a piece of his own heart?” Aleksandr Solzhenitsyn
or not enough
Buried in the Noise
but nothing can be as i want it to be. Oh well?
Not sure i am painting the truth
or if i am,
i don’t understand the sights
and truly lost is where i can be found.
February 2018 Buried in the Noise was a chapbook I had intended to publish before my mind changed. I never found the fortitude to proceed with the project. Today, I look at my poetry website and cringe, growl, weep, and wish i could organize my thoughts. They are scattered seeds that occasionally sprout.
On a July morning, in the height of summer, the ants are busy on the sunflowers. Today, I wake to the same routine regardless of the weather. The coffee poured, I light a candle.
Glistening green in the sun’s heightened shadow, I wonder if i should write a letter to a friend. The thought fleeting. I don’t want to add my emotions to his already pocket full of pleas. I let my mind settle into this opened space. Drum out the crinkle of autumn leaves and find solace in my reverie.
When we return to the land, will our hearts be able? The hours bend into baskets, carrying our troubles downstream, where the beavers damn us for wanting freedom. Will we ever furnish a house with all our plans?
You see me. I love my love in thought. Can you know the waiting fires the bones?
the stillness of earth a song well versed and rehearsed watch my shadow crawl
What is going on with you creatively?
The haiku is taken from an expressive arts class 4/3/2020. The photo is from 10/6/2020. Life has been a bit hectic lately. Changes in my life never cease. I put a halt to my REACE training midsummer due to conflicts. My training will resume in February 2021, with a new venue out of San Diego CA.
I look forward to continuing the expressive arts as they bring me much calmness and energy. A centering of my heart is needed in the tumultuous times we find ourselves. And I am rather certain for time to come. Although others I know are feeling a respite coming. My thoughts are knowing whether it is a false peace trembling to capture imagination and souls. Or something so luminous we will barely be able to stand.
My plans going forward, once I am able to mentally give energy to all my dreams, is a new blog, Shed 33.3, to replace Soul Signs, which will incorporate all my life loves. 🥰🥳🎈🎈🎈 Although this blog will remain indefinitely as it captures the impermanence of my being. And of nature’s caress. The rawness, the muddy waters, and the hidden aspects of growth, unequivocally shared.
So stay tuned! And please consider contributing to the adventure with your soulful poems, The Poet’s Wonderment, Gift Crow, Vol 1. Read about this endeavor here. I can be reached at firstname.lastname@example.org.