postcard from indiana (one)

Front:
A landscape of snow-filled rows in fields that once held corn and soybeans surrounded by woods full of naked, brown trees with a highway running through it. The setting of the winters of my childhood.

Back:
"I come from / a tiptoeing, still, winter home." A line from a poem I wrote almost a year ago…I have walked back into that line as I traveled by plane and car and foot to all that I used to know. Walking down the roads that led to patterns invites an awareness to why the patterns continue even on a blank page of all that can be. I have allowed the samscaras to create a rhythm that is not inward resonance, but instead has pushed a feeling of off-kilter that has become my life on certain days, in certain moments.

Comments

[gkgirl]

wow, liz.

you are brilliance.

really.
you are.

i read this four time.

[gkgirl]

times.

i read it four times.

it's early here.
heh.

[Frankie]

Beautiful Liz. This is wonderful. I have read it over and over again. The memory, the reconnecting, the patterns continuing on a blank page of all that can be. Breathtaking. xoxo

[jessamyn]

"I have allowed the samscaras to create a rhythm that is not inward resonance"...
this means something fierce to me right now.
I so enjoy your blog, and visit every so often. Thank you for your words today.
Much peace...

[Lori]

Very powerful and thought provoking!!!!!!!

[daisies]

wow ... wow ... thank you for this ... xo