Pierced
what do I do about the absence
that speaks so loudly
what do I do about the rhythm
of the leaves that chants
your name
what do I do about the air
slipping around the corner
with the sound of
your voice
nothing,
but breathe in
and out
and let longing thread through me
making of me a permeable cloth
with an open weave that leaves room
to sieve stars, to swallow the moon
to sit impossibly still
that speaks so loudly
what do I do about the rhythm
of the leaves that chants
your name
what do I do about the air
slipping around the corner
with the sound of
your voice
nothing,
but breathe in
and out
and let longing thread through me
making of me a permeable cloth
with an open weave that leaves room
to sieve stars, to swallow the moon
to sit impossibly still
posted by MB at 9:07 AM
21 Comments:
ohhhh, mb.
That's certainly a creative way to deal with it (poem). Or ways to deal with it (all the imaginative solutions). I'm sure it helps, and doesn't. :-)
'and let longing thread through me' - that's so wonderfully evocative of delicate, subtle, ongoing pain. As Lesley says, I don't suppose the poem makes the pain go away, but it does seem like one of the things suffering is 'for'...
Great poem. Whats the one thing you can't live without? Your breath.
Oh, that's magnificent, MB!
another really great one!
"what do i do about the rhythm of the leaves that chants your name...." this phrase is absolutely piiercing... an echo of a memory from years ago. thank you for reawakening it here.
xo- snowsparkle
You have said so much here, mb, and said it exquisitely. I feel grateful for having read it.
Like the old song said:
"You send me!"
alan
...the leaves that chant your name...I could feel the seasons of time, the piercing desire..ache. Your poetry has soul.
I love the loose warp-and-weft burlap heart in this.
'and let longing thread through me
making of me a permeable cloth
with an open weave that leaves room
to sieve stars, to swallow the moon
to sit impossibly still'
I long to be that cloth every day, Mb. With the help of my family, my patients, my circumstances, and your poems, I may take a step closer each day.
Not that grieving, longing should have a purpose, but weaving us into
...room
to sieve stars, to swallow the moon
to sit impossibly still
oh! beautiful.
You have found your place between the words, the letters, all of the open space that links heart and soul into one even and uneven breath. The life that has left you with these memories has become sewn with poetry like the threads you weave and the family tree that you continually water.
This is a magnificent tribute to your life and your family mb!
To be pierced with joy!
you are one of the stars seived through into this moment. this moment is beautiful, beautiful, beautiful.
So sad 'let longing thread through me
making of me a permeable cloth' a perfect metaphore
Every time I think you have written my favorite, another comes to take its place.
This piece is pure magnificence. Your choice of words in the last stanza is amazing.
Sky, thank you!
Leslee, these things that require being woven into life do and do not transform themselves in the process of being woven.
Jean, I would agree that it is one of the things suffering is "for" — which is what this poem is about.
Travis, breath is essential, breathing is helpful! Thank you for stopping by.
Dale, I'm grateful you thought so!
rdl, thank you!
Snowsparkle, I like to think of a poem as an article of clothing, to be put on and worn by the reader, shaped to their own life. Thank you.
Patry, I also feel grateful for your having read it! Thank you.
Alan, you always bring a smile to my face with your comments. I appreciate them so much.
Corey, "the piercing desire..ache" is a good descriptor. Thanks.
Lori, now there's an image! Got your camera?
La vie en rose, the emptiness that is everything.
Mermaid, you do take a step closer every day, you do.
Brenda, it is the purpose I have found.
Lee, thank you!
Lhombre, tus palabras son un poema. Gracias por me entender.
Ruth, the beauty of it is that we all are!
Sue, thank you!
TLR, oh you honor me! Thank you.
This makes my heart ache. But with a flavor of relief.
what can be done about any of it but to sit quietly and be...this is exquisite!
Zhoen, yours is, as usual, a perceptive comment.
Anne, thank you so much.
Post a Comment
<< Home