In late Spring, the trees assemble themselves in theatres of light they wave and bend— attend to one another choral sounds ascend— in uncontainable thrust birdsongs undulate— their long mosaics from the dark.
Ah, the call of the Mystics. The liminal thresholds that bring us 'into it'. What a blessing (and a challenge!) To trust and follow this good impulse, Deborah.
This poem opens in green-gold light and lets the whole world begin singing from there.
The trees, birds, clouds, breath, robin, and bones all move as one living field. Nothing here explains nature from a distance. The poem steps straight into it, barefoot, listening.
The strongest thread sits in the return to “this one skin.” Such a clear, tender phrase. It gathers body, earth, grief, and belonging into one place. The robin on the gate gives the poem its small holy messenger, carrying comfort in a form the heart already knows.
The ending keeps its hand open: feet here, next good impulse, fresh air, nourishment, attunement. A quiet path back into life. Green medicine, sung aloud.
Makes me feel as though I'm in Dublin in the Springtime, friend Síodhna....
Instead of here in our Southern Autumn.
We may be in Dublin in your own Autumn, as it happens. Somewhere around late August or early September. Our flights are booked to Europe, at least, so that's the plan - subject to the impact of wars and the idiots who start them. We are headed down to County Cork to catch up with Meg's Cousins but we will take some time to enjoy Dublin again first. If you feel like meeting up, we would be happy to have a meal at your choice of cafe or pub... Aussies to pay! (Though in fact M is a dual citizen and proud holder of an Irish passport).
It is very complicated what’s happening back in Iran, and how it affects me and my loved ones. One can’t but hope for the best, and try one’s best to lead a life worthwhile.
What a beautiful response, Dave. I'd definitely be up for meeting you and Meg on your trip, our Autumn. Let's touch base closer when you know your dates and I'll DM you to set something up.
This is so lovely. I love the musicality of it.
"we rarely touch
the forgotten stars in our bones—
the air through our lungs
the hole in the clouds
is the light that finds us"
Thanks for comment, lovely that you felt that, Carawen.
This is so lovely
Thanks you Naz!
Beautiful.
I hear you voice in every line, Siodhna, a gorgeous piece!
Hey, thanks for this, maybe I'm writing to hear this part of me too.
Love your poem. Those last lines--yes!
the world is waiting on us—
to sink into one another's arms
at the furthest edges of ourselves
Also the song Mystic you posted. Songs about sailing always sing to me. Memories from my own time at sea. It never leaves you.
Ah, the call of the Mystics. The liminal thresholds that bring us 'into it'. What a blessing (and a challenge!) To trust and follow this good impulse, Deborah.
This poem opens in green-gold light and lets the whole world begin singing from there.
The trees, birds, clouds, breath, robin, and bones all move as one living field. Nothing here explains nature from a distance. The poem steps straight into it, barefoot, listening.
The strongest thread sits in the return to “this one skin.” Such a clear, tender phrase. It gathers body, earth, grief, and belonging into one place. The robin on the gate gives the poem its small holy messenger, carrying comfort in a form the heart already knows.
The ending keeps its hand open: feet here, next good impulse, fresh air, nourishment, attunement. A quiet path back into life. Green medicine, sung aloud.
Thanks Jay, yes that one skin is maybe my central idea. Always love reading your rich and thoughtful comments. I learn from the reflections.
Makes me feel as though I'm in Dublin in the Springtime, friend Síodhna....
Instead of here in our Southern Autumn.
We may be in Dublin in your own Autumn, as it happens. Somewhere around late August or early September. Our flights are booked to Europe, at least, so that's the plan - subject to the impact of wars and the idiots who start them. We are headed down to County Cork to catch up with Meg's Cousins but we will take some time to enjoy Dublin again first. If you feel like meeting up, we would be happy to have a meal at your choice of cafe or pub... Aussies to pay! (Though in fact M is a dual citizen and proud holder of an Irish passport).
Best Wishes - Dave :)
Your poems always make me feel something different each time. Such beautiful writing Siodhna xx
Thanks Sarah, what a lovely thing to say.
Had missed reading you, my friend. Isn't love to go stargazing in the galaxy of each other's forgotten bones?
What a beautiful poem
Thanks Mahdi, I've missed me too. Hope you're coping ok with all that's happening out there? So much upheaval. Wishing for its end.
It is very complicated what’s happening back in Iran, and how it affects me and my loved ones. One can’t but hope for the best, and try one’s best to lead a life worthwhile.
What a beautiful response, Dave. I'd definitely be up for meeting you and Meg on your trip, our Autumn. Let's touch base closer when you know your dates and I'll DM you to set something up.