It’s been a rainy couple of days lately, and I couldn’t help thinking of one of my favorite poems to get me through it.
If thou of fortune be bereft,
and in thy store there be but left
two loaves, sell one, and with the
dole, buy hyacinths to feed thy soul.John Greenleaf Whittier
Such Envy, I have.
For those with no doubt.
For whom life’s plan is clear.
A destination, clearly, seen at the end.
For those who walk on level ground,
Stable ground with no pitfalls or detours.
Such Envy, I have.
For those with no questions.
For whom land is their constant companion.
A horizon of luscious land, no sea within sight.
For those who never experience the terror of being
battered to-and-fro, alone, in a storm.
Three women sitting down together
Each discussing their lives
All are separate yet
All are the same.
A three-sided mirror sits
Each face waiting to reflect
An image.
The first face – always uncovered
Catches the sun’s rays
To send out to the world.
The second – sometimes uncovered
In only the deepest silences
Always alone despite the crowd.
The third – never uncovered.
Its face, unknown even to its owner
Who sometimes always with
The greatest of trepidation
Gathers a moment of courage
To grab the corner of the cover
Intending to pull it back and reveal
What lies beneath.
Only to stop at just the last moment,
Each and Every time.
Three women, three lives.
Three mirrors, three images.
Two lies and one truth, or
Three truths and no lies?
Flags are blossoming now where little else is blossoming and I am bent on fathoming what it means to love my country.
Adrienne Rich
bare limbs against the wind
standing tall and firm like your gonna win.
dark and looming, the sky overhead
Fighting off the feelin’ you’re better off dead.
As rain begins to fall like tears to wet your skin
what you thought once gone, that old familiar pain appears again.
Finally the sky clears – bright and shiny,
But you’re still left feelin’ tiny,
cause buzzing around like a tease is a buzzy lil’ bee,
while you – trapped by your Roots – are busy longing to be free.
There’s something comforting in the smell
of old books.
A cacophony of life surrounding,
and Yet
In one small breath, an upturned
book on one’s lap,
an instant transportation to a
New and wondrous land.
Alone or with companions, always
a grand adventure to be had.
In Celebrations, great and small,
equal joys to be found
in all the infinite tragedies.
There’s no story that could be told
unworthy of such a worship
found in the simple pleasure
of a quiet day.
akervand 