old poetry and forgotten words

It is strange sometimes how the past creeps up and knocks on the door to remind you…. I woke up very early this morning after a bad dream. I couldn’t get back to sleep, so I got up, did some yoga and then remembered a time eight years ago when life was very different. I had forgotten to some degree about that period in my life. My children were 4 and 5 years old, just starting to go to elementary school, and I was home full time with them, working out of the house. I was also writing quite a lot back then too. Going back through some of the old poems and essays that I wrote, I find myself wondering who that person – who wrote all of those words was. It’s surreal in fact, to go back and read some of it, to remember and compare that person to the person now who is writing. It is almost as though the universe dug deep this morning, breathed in and spit out a period of my life when I was perhaps at my most vulnerable and fragile for me to remember.

The why of this all returning now is for another time to discover. I am simply enjoying rereading and will share some of it here.

crescent moon
through bowed branches
light bathes me
flows through me
gentle healing
long weary day falls away
listen to her reflection
dancing in the water
gentle hands sweep
the cool shore
while a quiet breeze
stirs the leaves
only enough to carry
the cooing melody of
a sleeping dove
and lay my head
down to rest

(2001)
~

frost dances on fallen leaves
morning sun shimmers
in each icy reflection
bluest sky bows in joyful revery

(2001)

~

caught in a swirl of wind
leaf rises and falls
released from its earthy architecture
to soar
not unaided, no alone
but to fly among birds and clouds
finally to rest among
those whose journey
began and ended before

(2001)
~

cricket’s noisy
conversation beyond
the open window
silence leaps in
crashing through
pushing roughly against
sputtering thoughts
spilling them across the blankets
pages from this worn journal
cannot contain the emotions
hopes and fears claw their way
across thread and fiber
desparate reach to gather them
all within arms length
when the cricket’s song
resumes
(2001)
~

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