at the edge...
gearhart, oregon . august 11, 2010
a few weeks ago, i mentioned that i spent time standing alone at the edge of the ocean, releasing some things out into the world. the following poem note of sorts is a glimpse into that experience. all lines of poetry mentioned in this post are from mary oliver's collection of poetry in Red Bird
*****
I stood at the edge of the push and the pull, my feet sinking in the wet sand, my heart’s strings attempting to weave together so that they did not lose their grip, so I would not lose my grip.
I stood at the edge as the rain wound her way from the grey to the strands of my hair, pooling in my turned up cuffs.
I stood at the edge and opened a way to navigate this path disguised as a book of poetry.
I stood at the edge and read…
As the rain wound her way from the grey to fuse with the crashing and the pushing and the pulling, I stood alone at the edge with salt water winding its way from my eyes to merge with the pools of water beneath, on, around me, and I stood watching or was it feeling the crashing and the pushing and the pulling. I stood watching and began to wonder if the strings holding my heart, me, were disentangling with each breath filled with fear. I stood at the edge and began to read aloud…
As the rain wound her way from the grey to my lowered, rounded self, my voice began to duel with the crashing and the pulling until the rhythm began a dance with the fear and the hope. The water dripped across the page, pooling at the center as I stood at the edge of the pushing and the pulling until these words became my repeated rhythm…
I stood at the edge, my heart’s strings weaving the spaces between each crack as the rain raced toward the center, my eyes stinging with the salt and the fear and all that I hoped would not be. I stood at the edge of the push and the pull and the crashing of all that is not supposed to be and heard you…
“…and this is why I have been sent, to teach this to your heart.”****
My eyes blurred with the truth and the fear and the hope as I stood at the edge of the crashing and pushing and pulling. As the rain pooled around me, inside me, I stood at the edge as her words found their way to the cracks, and I began to speak aloud the prayer said by so many (by all) before me…
what is real in poem notes
Reader Comments (8)
Hugs to you, poet soul.
yes!
i know i have said this before
but i can't help saying it again...
you
amaze
me.
constantly.
xo
and can you envision standing there......a line of women as far as the eye can see, side by side, whispering our collective wishes and prayers...looking skyward at the end, whispering "and what she said", pointing to the soul beside her....? it is true.
i felt myself right there with you....so touching and beautifully said
I so enjoy your poetic thoughts. I wanted to tell you I just pre-ordered your book! It sounds just up my alley. I know you must be excited about the pending release. All the best to you.
Shona
He is listening.
He hears your prayers.
And I continue to pray for you....
i love you, my friend.