Tag Archives: writing

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A Mary Oliver Poem & More Street Art

another “gem” on the path this morning

I continue to find little treasures as I go out for my walks. This morning I came across this inspirational painted rock. We had a lovely sunny morning but unfortunately winter continues to be reluctant to let us go into spring. The forecast for more snow helped me choose the Mary Oliver poem I am sharing.

THE STORM (BEAR)

Now through the white orchard my little dog
          romps, breaking the new snow
          with wild feet.
Running here running there, excited,
          hardly able to stop, he leaps, he spins
until the white snow is written upon
          in large, exuberant letters,
a long sentence, expressing
          the pleasures of the body in this world.

Oh, I could not have said it better
          myself.
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Here

I am here.
Where I sit.
Bent knees folded under
ebony wood desk.
Harsh computer screen light
insists on my attention.

My mind drifts
to a place of gentle beauty, warmth and water.
Lapping waves caress sandy beaches.
Balmy sun rays touch all with a golden
Midas touch.

I am here.
Alone.
Keyboard letters waiting to be tapped,
bills to be paid,
calendar to be adjusted.

My mind wanders.
Here I sit
but there I go.

An eagles vision of all below,
soaring over mountaintops,
gliding above wide open plains,
blank pages before me,
ivory sheets upon my desk.

Here I sit.
I am here.

My spirit roams,
walls and windows pose no threat,
no barrier to this wandering mind.
The world awaits,
a vast outdoors
waiting to be explored.

Here I sit.
Shoulders in knots, fingers kinked,
but there I go.

Lost.
Lost in thought.
Lost in the beauty of a dragonfly wing;
a wispy orange cloud tinged with the sun
dipping down in the west holds me,
holds on to day because this moment nears –
nears rest.
Where east and west come together.
No beginning.
No end.
The earth revolving,
evolving.
And there is so much
to see
to explore.

Yet here I am.

My mind is out the door.

I am here
seated too long.

I am here.

But my spirit
is long gone.

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Empathy

(This piece was inspired by imagining what the parents of the young man who killed five fellow students must be going through)

I hear you speak
but the words don’t make sense to me
My mind is swirling
thoughts flying in and out
too quick to capture
Maybe this…
What about that…
a fierce competition for my attention

Focus
one thing at a time
calm down
breathe deeply
Now, what were you saying?
A barrage of words assault me
and it takes every bit of willpower
to comprehend what the babble means

Instinctively I am in denial
I do not want to hear the message
coming my way

When I became a parent
I never thought this would
be a message for me

Your child is in trouble
Your child has been hurt
Your child is gone…
Your child is the per pe tra tor

Nothing prepared me
for a foreign message like that
My heart swells
it breaks
part of me shatters
and runs to the shadows
a place where no one can find
me

If they can’t see me
it can’t be real, right?

it can’t be real
it can’t be real

The world sees a monster
a psychopath
I see a sick child
my beautiful son

where is the little boy
I once knew?

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Priestess

The hands of time
shift and swirl
A veil of fog lifts to reveal
a precious new life

Beautiful Morgan
heiress in a long tradition
of ancient priestesses

She will learn
the knowledge of land,
sea and sky

Plants and animals will bend
to aid her
spreading peace throughout the land

She is blessed

All who come in contact with her
leave radiating a shimmer
of her infinite love

She is time
and timeless

She is Morgan

Her arrival timed to be
precisely now
A celestial chorus
cheers triumphantly
ready to guide and protect her
on her earthly path

Beauty

Wisdom

Knowledge

Morgan is here to teach

Here to love

Here to release
the constraints on earth