a song of escape
hat-covered heads and booted feet
parka-wrapped people shoveling snow
the neighborhood working in unison
the panting of their breath visible song
a song of escape
a song with a tropical beat
a song featuring heads under straw sombreros
feet melting in soft sand
the sun bathing half-naked bodies in light
in warmth, wonderful heat,
a song that becomes the sound of the sea
gazes face the salty rocks
out to where the whales while away the day
to the straight line of the horizon
Another poem from what I’ve decided to call my Gathering at the Sea collection, written while on holiday in San Agustinillo, Mexico in January 2021. You can find other poems from my little collection previously posted here:
The Moon Speaking
I remember that night, when I was full-on
in my shiny best, I got a glimpse of you moving
along the sandy shore. You caught my attention
as you skipped from spot to spot on the wet sand
where the gentle waves caress the earth. You were chasing
sand crabs. Whether teeny-tiny or the bigger ones, those
armored beings always beat your lumbering foot, like a giant \
overtaking them, back into their little bitty holes. You
giggled at their speed and spoke to them in laughter. When you
tired of your rollicking pursuit, you paused on the sand and
gazed out over the water to the horizon. Your spine
straightened like a tree in the summer sun and your chest
curved ever so slightly toward the sky, like a baby opening
her mouth, hungry to be nourished, completely trusting
her mother. As if just noticing it’s the light on in the room
that is keeping things from being dark, you look my way.
As you lean back with your arms wide in a heart-centered kiss
of communion, I sense your imagination unfolding like a flower.
In the mirror of my being, you see your power, your beauty
and strength. You claim the truth: how you simply need to be,
emanating your light, in phases, not always glowing in your
full glory because sometimes you need to rest.
I strip away the film
that has built up over the years.
I feel as if I’m moving backward
as the layers fall away.
I question the false self
that I have created with my beliefs.
My certainties drift into air
like sand disappearing in the wind.
I stand open and empty
like a young child without expectations.
As my real self is exposed,
I see I have been moving forward all along.
I wrote this poem over 7 years ago. I forgot that I even wrote it. Somehow it never made it into the file where I stash away my scribblings. I happened upon it when reviewing some old journal entries and letters to a friend. I was surprised how it spoke to me again, all these years later. Circumstances are different, yet again there is opportunity for rebirth.
How my coach at the time interpreted the writing was inspiring: She saw a woman shedding old layers to transform into the beautiful butterfly she was meant to be, a woman who discovers that she has always been a beautiful butterfly, she just needed to let go of what was weighing her down so that she could soar.
* I took this photo of a geranium blossom in my backyard. I picked this photo because the water on the petals speaks to me of tenderness, and that seems relevant given the open and exposed feelings expressed.