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A Random Act of Poetry for #raopoetryday

October 7, 2015 By Sandra Heska King

moon rising - SEEK THE SONG

 

 

 

Four years ago, a still unknown someone gifted me a writer’s retreat at Laity Lodge in the Texas Hill Country. I got the call while sitting outside at a nursing home with my mom who had just been diagnosed with a brain tumor following a fall. The only workshop still open was a poetry workshop led by Julia Kasdorf.

Poetry? Yikes!

What follows was originally posted four years ago yesterday in response to a Random Act of Poetry prompt from Tweetspeak Poetry. I’m reposting it now (with only a couple edits to the first part) to celebrate Random Acts of Poetry Day. #raopoetryday

 

Frio - 2

 

How Did I End Up Here?

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 line from which I’m supposed to extract juice,

to write from it without lifting pen from paper.

“You are intended to write every poem you write,”

she said. Really? I’m intended to write this?

“It shall be sure forever as the moon’s return

faithful as the skies remain . . .”

And I began to write.

moon - 09-30-15

 

 

Forever as the Moon

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 in 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 in 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 in the moon,

the one song

over and over and over.

And there are rumors of water.

It will not end up here.

 

My mom’s brain biopsy showed an aggressive malignant tumor, and she died eight weeks after I returned. During those last weeks, we spent a lot of time outside gazing at the man in the moon.

Random-Acts-of-Poetry-Orange-Wall

 

In the stillness,

Sandy

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Filed Under: Blog, poetry

Comments

  1. Lux says

    October 8, 2015 at 6:19 am

    I’m sorry about your mom. But what a way to spend the remaining days, huh?
    I think I would rather gaze at the beauty of heavens too than worry about other things.
    Beautiful poetry.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      October 8, 2015 at 8:59 am

      Thanks, sweet friend. Yes, we are coming up on the 4th anniversary of her passing. But I’m convinced that time above the river was orchestrated in preparation for what was to come. 🙂

  2. Lorretta says

    October 8, 2015 at 10:07 am

    (sigh) You make my soul breathe with all the wonder of life and even in view of the darker colored hues of pain around it’s edges. Thanks…. and I’m going to extend some random acts of poetry beyond the 7th because, poetry.

    • Sandra Heska King says

      October 8, 2015 at 7:26 pm

      Ah yes… because, poetry. 😀

  3. Martha Orlando says

    October 8, 2015 at 10:33 am

    Your poem made me want to sing right along with you. Beautiful, Sandra!
    Blessings!

    • Sandra Heska King says

      October 8, 2015 at 7:23 pm

      Sing, Martha, sing! 😀

  4. Dea says

    October 8, 2015 at 10:54 am

    I know you miss her, Sandy… and I know you are still singing. I’m thinking this poetry was not so random… hugs

    • Sandra Heska King says

      October 8, 2015 at 7:22 pm

      So much love, dear Dea.

  5. Lynn D. Morrissey says

    October 8, 2015 at 11:50 am

    Sandy, you’ve written about your beloved mother before, and I’m so very sorry. I know you will never stop loving and missing her. I’m glad you know that she is with Jesus, and that you were able to receive God’s healing gift of poetry both to prepare you for her loss and to comfort you when she found herself, face to face, in her Savior’s embrace. this is such an exquisite poem. God used poetry to help heal me when Daddy died. It was a smaller container for overwhelming grief. how I miss him!
    You’ve inspired me to post one of my favorite poems (that I’ve written 🙂 ) on my FB page in honor of the day. I was unaware of it. Bless you for your wonderful gifts and for sharing them so generously!
    Love
    Lynn

    • Sandra Heska King says

      October 8, 2015 at 7:21 pm

      Oh, heading over there now… 😀

      Thanks so much, Lynn, for your always encouraging words. xo

      BTW, today is National Poetry Day…

  6. Kelly Greer says

    October 8, 2015 at 11:59 pm

    Tears and sighs Sandra. So beautifully written and how tender are your memories. I am sorry that you had to let go of your Mom. The Lord was was watching out for you and giving you this gift of poetry to bring comfort and to remember and maybe even to let go again and again and remember. ((Hugs))

    • Sandra Heska King says

      October 9, 2015 at 8:07 am

      Crazy how God works, right? Hugs back to you, dear Kelly, and for the inspiration you’ve been/are in your own journeys.

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