This month has been more hectic than ever! Selling a house and moving into a tiny apartment in less than 30 days has been an overwhelming experience. We go to settlement for the house we sold on Tuesday, then we'll have a four month break while our house is being built.
I know I've missed some wonderful blog posts this month, but hopefully I can catch up this summer. The one thing I did manage to do was to log-on each day to follow the progressive poem started by poet extraordinaire Irene Latham
. It's been a lot fun watching this poem grow, and trying to imagine the line I'd add when it was my turn. From the start, the first two lines made me think of the deep emotional hunger I've often filled with poetry...reading it, writing it. Although I kept testing other possible topics, thoughts of poetry kept weaving its way back to me. Every line relates somehow (at least in my mind) to poetry. Yesterday, when I read the line added by Renee at No Water River
, it seemed like a natural lead in to the what I think this poem is about.
If you are reading this
you must be hungry
Kick off your silver slippers
Come sit with us a spell
A hanky, here, now dry your tears
And fill your glass with wine
Now, pour. The parchment has secrets
Smells of a Moroccan market spill out.
You have come to the right place, just breathe in.
Honey, mint, cinnamon, sorrow. Now, breathe out
last week’s dreams. Take a wish from the jar.
Inside, deep inside, is the answer…
Unfold it, and let us riddle it together,
…Strains of a waltz. How do frozen fingers play?
How do fennel, ginger, saffron blend in the tagine?
Like broken strangers bound by time, they sisterdance…
their veils of sorrow encircle, embrace.
Feed your heart with waltzes and spices.
Feed your soul with wine and dreams.
Humble dust of coriander scents your feet, coaxing
seascapes, crystal sighs and moonshine from your melody
Beware of dangers along the path of truth
And beware, my friend, of too much bewaring–
strong hands cushion you, sweet scents surround you—now leap
without looking, guided by trust. And when you land
on silver-tipped toes, buoyed by joy– you’ll know
you are amazing, you are love, you are poetry—