How did I end up here
wrapped in a circle of poets
(I don’t even call myself a poet)
where we showed up
to taste peaches and wild grapes,
to crush the flesh of nectarine
and sing fig songs?
How did I end up here
in cedar-scented sacred breeze
benched above a liquid mirror
where I share space with a black squirrel?
I’ve plucked some word fruit from the white bowl,
a fortune from which I’m supposed to extract juice,
to write without ceasing, to offer a prayer.
“You are intended to write every poem you write.”
Did she really say that?
It shall be sure forever as the moon’s return
faithful as the skies remain . . .
I lower my standards and begin to write.
It shall be sure forever as the moon’s return
faithful as the skies remain, the song of the bird,
the bird with one song that sings that song
over and over and over,
the song of the man of the moon.
I stop and seek the song
in the lines, the lines of desire,
designer lines engraved in my heart,
a magical maze of delight
that lead me to the song,
the song of the man of the moon.
I seek the song in my desire,
and I desire the song in my seeking.
It shall be sure forever as the moon’s return
faithful as the skies remain
that I sing the song of the bird,
the song of the man of the moon,
the one song
over and over and over.
And there are rumors of water.
It will not end up here.
Take delight in the Lord, and he will give you the desires of your heart. ~Psalm 37:4 (NIV)
A random act of poetry for Tweetspeak Poetry.
I think you can legitimately call yourself a poet … a singer of songs.
Awww, thanks, Susan. I did find this definition of a poet: a writer of poems (the term is usually reserved for writers of good poetry.) Now to know what is “good.” 😉
Sing your song, Sandra. Sing your song. And that cedar-scented sacred breeze? Missing it so.
Me, too. Me, too.
Oh what a privilege to read this and know. Desire lines… I will never forget that. What a beautiful portrait you have painted with these words. Hugs.
Desire lines and the winter trees going deeper. So grateful to have shared that time together.
OK, girl, you are officially a poet (if you weren’t before), but that poem seals the deal. I get every single one of those references because I was there with you.
Sing on, friend.
🙂 And I’m so glad you were.
I love the way we have twin words because we sat there in the same room! 🙂 I like your side of the twins better 🙂
I still can’t believe we sat there in that same room. And I love your side better.
You have captured all the special moments Sandy. This is wonderful. I’m still finding myself a bit dumbfounded by it all – trying to sort through it all and seal the things He was whispering into my heart. Thinking about the things we talked about and trying to find the center. Thank you so much for all the good conversation and laughter and love. It was such a special time.
Me, too. Dumbfounded. It’s still like a dream. I’m still walking in a dream. Very. Special. Time.
This is you.
Anybody have any tissue?
“How did I end up here
in cedar-scented sacred breeze
benched above a liquid mirror
where I share space with a black squirrel?”
You are where you are meant to be, Sandra, and yes, I think you were intended to write this. Your words are always so expressive and meaningful.
Thanks so much, Carol. It’s been a long time since I’ve felt His presence so intensely.
Beautiful words full of emotion.
Thank you, Sharon.
To write forever, to offer a prayer…
Yes, that’s how it feels for me too, Sandy, this writing thing. Such beautiful word-play. *sigh*
Sighing with you, Laura. And that place, it’s part of me now. I can’t wait to go back.
I found this entry to be absolutely beautiful. I popped over after reading Lyla’s current entry. The few times that I comment it reads sonny72562, long story behind that. Take care, and I shall have to stop in more often.
You’re showing up as Larry here. 🙂 Welcome! I’m blessed by your presence. Your words encourage me. I’ll keep the coffee warm.
I’ve plucked some word fruit from the white bowl…
oh sandra. you and linda make me wish desperately i’d been there with you both, plucking word fruit from the white bowl…. so, so lovely. xo
Next year, Emily? Next year? That would make me so happy.
I love your poetry, Sandra. Always beautiful, touching and thought provoking.
Thank you, Ceci. I still can’t believe I ended up in a poetry workshop–and yet it was so perfect–just what my soul needed.
You are an inspiration!
Reeeeeeeal nice. 🙂
Somehow I missed this one – came over from LL’s list today – oh my, so lovely. As always. Hope your tomorrow turns out to be a day of answers – and as always, more questions, too. Love and prayers.