Words inflamed

I want to write again from the heart
to sing the songs within
ignore the calls and walls that hem in our dances
entranced, withdraw into my soul
and with words inflamed by visions
tell of what is there
I will not chase praise, approval
no longer slave to the tide,
I want to turn around and ride it
I want to tell of the roaring in my ears,
the wonders I see through the veil
to rise up with the mountains
and greet the moon
drink down the rain
and embrace the many seconds
of this word-drenched existence

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Freedom’s call

Flags can change and martyrs die
and though fortresses may withstand time
home is never quite the same
once you’ve left it
this life comes without guarantees;
we can crumble just
as easily as our dreams.

So let’s embrace this moment
this now
come with me to where the night meets the dawn.

Because the wine will never again
taste so sweet
and the rain will never be as soft
because we only have today
forget tomorrow and let the rest of the world turn on
turn around
turn around.

So let’s embrace this moment
this now
come with me to where the night meets the dawn.

Day 25 of NaPoWriMo suggested beginning with a line from another poem. I chose a line from the song, Subversives.

You (I will sit with myself)

Do you still indulge your memories
explore thoughts twisting in the breeze
follow their leads, unravel the knots
allow yourself to dream
those old dreams of revolution?
They are hidden now
tucked between basement dust
and damp walls;
let me sift them from
the words you once wrote,
we’ll pretend the ink’s still wet
and read them till the dawn breaks
again over the crumbling city.

 

Inspired by a poem that was part of but not the actual prompt from NaPoWriMo day 11, James Wright’s Lying in a Hammock at William Duffy’s Farm in Pine Island, Minnesota. What a title!

The anatomy of decision

What’s new is old.

I’ve been here before.

My head swirls and
time bends around me
as doubts ebb and flow
but always I come back
back to the angel’s face,
always I come back
back to the heart (breakable)
and I realize
the decision was made
before I even made it.
A shadow brought it to me in the night,
packaged–not neatly–but packaged nonetheless.
And I opened it.
Now all there is left to do
is to ride out the tide
and see where it leaves me.

Rain Dance

Children don’t fear the rain.

“It’s going to rain a lot today!” I call after my son who is in the process of jumping on his bike to head off to school.

“So?” And he’s gone.

I was the same, if I think about it. In galloshes and slicker, I splashed and sloshed and jumped to my heart’s content.

Umbrella overhead, I listened to the beat of a million tiny drums, and danced along.

Playing giant to the stick towns I built in the mud – March’s snow and ice and meltwater was best – I blocked up the streams and watched the great flood.

I waded in lakes up to the tops of my boots, just to see if I could.

I turned my face up to the sky, closed my eyes and, laughing, was refreshed.

 

If we are not made of sugar what do we fear?

Today, when nothing else would clear the cobwebs, when I need refreshing more than I need to sit still, I, childlike, headed out to the puddles.

I turned my face skyward once more and let the rain wash away all my cares.

Out there, far from grey office and buzzing screen, out there, I stopped thinking and just was.

I was part of Nature.

I was part of Outside.

I was refreshed.

 

 

I can’t promise this will be the last one about the rain. I’m inspired!