From the category archives:
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I am a kind word uttered and repeated
By the voice of Nature;
I am a star fallen from the
Blue tent upon the green carpet.
I am the daughter of the elements
With whom Winter conceived;
To whom Spring gave birth;
I was reared in the lap of Summer and I
Slept in the bed of Autumn.
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Infinite chasms
Between one and the other,
Sister, brother.
Between us and them,
Between all we want and how things are.
Terrible voids to abide
It’s an art
To live beyond the divide.
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Swallows travel to and fro,
And the great winds come and go,
And the steady breezes blow,
Bearing perfume, bearing love.
Breezes hasten, swallows fly,
Towered clouds forever ply,
And at noonday, you and I
See the same sunshine above.
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Help us to be the always hopeful
Gardeners of the spirit
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It flits around at such speed and is so well camouflaged that the hummingbird is difficult to study, unless it is captured on camera at high definition.
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This poem was written for a Peace Project organized by Judy Fisk Lucas. I wrote it thinking of the flooding along the Mississippi a few years back, but it seems relevant every time another place falls to waters, like Nashville, just recently.
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Poetry arises out of the unknown and speaks to what we do know. ~ W.S. Merwin
Contemporary American poet W.S. Merwin thus affirms what philosopher-poet Mewlana Jalaluddin Rumi penned eight centuries ago in his poem “Two Kinds of Intelligence”:
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Don’t go outside your house to see flowers.
My friend, don’t bother with that excursion.
Inside your body there are flowers.
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Today, like every other day, we wake up empty
and frightened. Don’t open the door to the study
and begin reading. Take down a musical instrument.
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