I
You rise out of flat stone
the shield
of your heart.
The moon crosses the sun.
Do we
become light
when we dream?
The folds of your corduroy
like ridges and hollows
furrows where the Spring runoff
sculpts a geology
in a landscape of tundra.
In our Klondike, cross and beams
hold the tunnels we dig through
to find the gold in each other,
rich veins tracing through the rock
like sunlight.
II
Spring is a tendril
of green;
the leaves a papery mass of veins unfolding.
Cliffs of grass by the old mine ripple
in the wind.
We are like those two trees
ancient, weathered, yet
our roots thoroughly
intertwined.
What is
underground
is what holds us.
The deeper passageways
and connections.
III
I wear the crescent moon in my hair,
the cold northern air;
you are the sun buried in the land,
illumined from within.
The sharp edges
in each moment
bind us.
My Adoni, my Aholi,
even in this harsh typography
you are a landscape of love,
a cartography of desire.
©Brenda Clews 2006
Sheath of feeling. Words groping to touch air.
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Woman with Flowers 7.1
(7th sketch in series, first iteration of this one) Woman with Flowers Flowers, props upholding the woman. The flowers, fragrant, imaginar...
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The Buddha says: “ You cannot travel the path until you have become the path itself .” The path is uncertain. Uncertainty is the guiding for...
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What if relationships are the primary ordering principle? What if the way relationships are ordered clarify, explain, and instruct us on th...
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"I hope you are all creating every day according to the inner map you were born with. I know it sometimes seems that map is written in ...
Oh, there are parts of this that really grabbed me.
ReplyDeleteWhat is
underground
is what holds us.
The sharp edges
in each moment
bind us.
... and the ways in which it weaves together underlying meanings.
Oh my dear~this Poetry is so stunning it brings a tremble to spirit. This is a work that expands outward from your own voice to the voices of many. This is the measure of a remarkable composition.
ReplyDeleteOnce, in the long ago time, our Friend visited Blue Cottage as TheThreeSarahs and stated that a particular work caused them to fall from their perch and melt into a pool of overwhelming emotion.
This Poem of yours Brenda, is such a Poem~residing in places of Shimmering.
Blessings~
Thank you MB, and laurieglynn.
ReplyDeleteThe figure in the poem seems to be an amalgam of the men I've loved longest. There are enough loving men around me, I can't complain, but no-one that I'm involved with. Sigh. Hope that changes soon! (Courage, courage.)
The title that I had thought of is a line from a poem by Hafiz, the 14th c Sufi master: Our Destiny Is To Turn Into Light
Here's the poem:
Faithful Lover
The moon came to me last night
With a sweet question.
She said,
"The sun has been my faithful lover
For millions of years.
Whenever I offer my body to him
Brilliant light pours from his heart.
Thousands then notice my happiness
And delight in pointing
Towards my beauty.
Hafiz,
Is it true that our destiny
Is to turn into Light
itself?"
Hafiz, The Gift, trans. Daniel Ladinsky (Toronto: Penguin, 1999), p.159.
While my poem is about light, it's really about roots, and works off Nancy Otto's lines (she's an artist who creates small, stunning glass sculptures where she explores our inner consciousnesses, our inner lives, the deep channels and underground ways that we connect).
Adoni and Aholi are both gods of nature: one ancient Phoenician; the other, ruler of the Pikya clan of Native Americans. Nature is usually imaged as a woman, but sometimes as a man - the dying & resurrected god.
Also I'm currently not just crazy about Hafiz, but also Pablo Neruda, his love poems, and Juan O'Neill's translation of Macchu Picchu.
I read this as being about light from underground:
ReplyDeletetracing through the rock
like sunlight...
What is
underground
is what holds us....
buried in the land,
illumined from within....
There is a wonderful tension that is created by such an apparently oxymoronic image. But when we dig deep and open up what is there, what sudden illumination bursts forth? It is spiritual, personal, sexual, nature-al... I am not at all surprised to see you reference Hafiz and Neruda!
Brenda. This is so good.
ReplyDeleteThe bit I particularly like is:
*The folds of your corduroy
like ridges and hollows
furrows where the spring run-off
sculpts a geology
in a landscape of tundra*
and as for
*What is
underground
is what holds us*
Yes indeed.
MB, yes, it's very definitely about our hidden connections, the deeper ones that may be called underground. Where the image of the two trees with tangled roots came from I don't know, but I now love that image of a deepened, tried and tested love. Of a closeness that's developed over time. Some of those roots may even be as one, drawing nourishment from the soil they are in together. I hope a title comes soon!
ReplyDeleteMary, your sensitivity is so appreciated. Our roots hold us in the earth, nourish us, but we are interconnected 'underground' in so many ways! Glad for our connection...
Good to see you here, Brenda.
ReplyDeleteI like the very earthy style of this three-fer.
The heartbeat within your rythms is a palpable thing that draws us in - maybe even too deeply
ReplyDelete"We are like those two trees
ancient, weathered, yet
our roots thoroughly
intertwined.
What is
underground
is what holds us."
yes indeed.
Ethereal. Some lovely moments.
ReplyDelete