For the earthweal challenge and the dverse open link.
Eyes, a window
in a borrowed room
with a view
of borrowed memories.
Thoughts skirmish,
birds after seeds,
rapid as stream water carrying its burden
of glitter into the dark.
Am I the thin branches,
overhanging,
pooling shadow beneath?
Not the bird, jay, crow, pigeon,
blackbird
that rises chattering,
not the bonemeal
of dead leaves and burrowing things;
my feet are deep in this earth,
making my own ancestors.
of a son
Minoan Linear A, Linear B, Knossos & Mycenae
Ramblings of an Irish ecologist and gardener
Poetry of a changing Earth. The grief is real--so is the hope.
Inspiring others through the written word, fictional blurbs & documenting my writing process from scratch.
occasional musings of an itinerant seanchaí polishing his craft online
The Things That Are In My Head.
offbeat words for you...
Just writing what's on my mind
AS HUMILDES OPINIÕES DE UMA MULHER DE CORAGEM QUE DIZ SIM À VIDA!
And so it goes...
My journey through photography
Inspiration and Spirituality **Award Free**
≈ fictionalpaper / piccoloscissors / creativeglue ≈
Philosophy is all about being curious, asking basic questions. And it can be fun!
Not a literary magazine for ordinary times, but a journal for an exceptional one. Writing the pandemic, together. Image, Somewhere in Time by Hengki Lee: Instagram @hengki_lee
Running in the slow lane
It started as a 366 - now a regular Photoblog- just for the love of taking photos and sharing them.
I'll talk you'll talk we'll talk
Promoting mindful living
A r t w o r k . . . f r o m . . . . . . H a m b u r g . . . . . . . . . . . . . G e r m a n y
October and November 2019
"Words are all we have" Samuel Beckett.
sharing the stories of interconnection
Jottings of a Storyhound
Anita Dawes & Jaye Marie
Just another blog of random thoughts.
Artist by choice, photographer by default, poet by accident.
Cold chilled to the bone!
At least it’s sunny!
This is dazzling – the moment of revelation when you ask
‘Am I the thin branches,
overhanging,
pooling shadow beneath?’
You have certainly blended yourself with the spirit of the trees: not kin with the birds but something more deep-rooted.
I don’t see many people. I can’t remember when I last spoke to a non-family member. Maybe I’m turning into a tree…
I know the feeling!
I like trees 🙂
Sublime…
xx
You are definitely rooted in the landscape. Its a beautiful thing. (K)
It’s getting harder and harder to think outside the natural.
“Am I the thin branches,
overhanging,
pooling shadow beneath?”
A stark image in a startling and eloquent poem.
Thank you. Those trees are a permanent gauge of the changing seasons.
I like how the writer is in the shadow of all other things, yet still part of the whole picture.
That’s rather the way I feel, being so deeply involved without ever really being a part of this part of life.
It is wonderful to become so entangled in the landscape that you’re not sure what you are, Jane, as opposed to being in a borrowed room with borrowed memories that won’t last long compared to the landscape. I love the metaphor of thoughts as birds, and the thought of being rooted ‘deep in this earth, making my own ancestors’.
Thanks Kim. We’re too ‘clever’ and sophisticated to be really an integral part of the landscape. All we can do is appreciate it and try not to upset it.
Via negativa is a strange route into entanglement but how else to discern the spirits than by untangling the obvious in order to see the weave? – B
Stripping things back to the essential.
Lovely and timeless. I think we all need to reconnect to nature, where our true ancestry lies — then we have a wonderful future, I strongly contend.
Thank you. Yes, I agree with you. There’s an empathy with other living things that many of us have lost and it’s not necessarily the townsfolk either. Watching the way some of the farmers operate and listening to their reasoning, you realise it’s not contact with the earth that means you know anything about it.
So gorgeous! I love “am I the thin branches?” and those closing lines are perfect!
Thank you, Sherry. I’m pleased you like this. It comes close to describing exactly how I feel sometimes.
What a lovely poem. I like the way you describe your deep connection to the natural world.
Thanks Suzanne. I try hard to connect, but there’s always the knowledge that we will only ever be spectators. We’ve move too far from the spontaneity of other life forms.
In my poem for this challenge I wrote of the entanglement I felt seeing another species dying. I think climate change grief can take us into a deeper connection with the natural world.
I’ve just read your poem, and I can feel your grief. To see it physically in the diminishing numbers and the tiny corpses must hit you in the gut.
Thanks for reading. Shearwaters are larger than seaguls so the effect of seeing hundreds dead or dying is very visceral.
I don’t even want to try and picture it.
Beautiful, chilling, and so evocatively impactful. WOW.
Thank you 🙂 I hadn’t really thought of chilling, more questioning where I fit in.
This is absolutely phenomenal, Jane! The last line packs a punch! 💝💝
Thank you, Sanaa 🙂
Previous responders have stolen all my positive thoughts, so just add me to the I-really-admire-this-poem list, JD
Ha ha! Thanks Ron 🙂
I love the topic of belonging. It is one I ponder often.
“my feet are deep in this earth,
making my own ancestors.”
These lines really captured my attention. You have used ancestors here in such a different way.
This poem makes me think of being the observer of one’s life.
Lovely.
Thanks Ali. Belonging is a difficult concept when you’re forever moving on. I feel I belong to an idea of a place and I take the idea with me. Creating my own ancestors is taking memories and planting them wherever I call home. I think they’ll grow 🙂
Recently I was talking to a friend and she referred to a place as her heart home. This was not the place she lived but the place her heart felt at home. I thought this was a lovely notion.
It is. We shouldn’t expect to find it easily either. All the time we’re looking after a family, we’re constrained by work and what’s best for them. It’s only when we get a relative liberty that we can ask ourselves what exactly do we want.
The first stanza, when you come down to it, is what we are. I like the idea of moving beyond that model.
Yes, it would be truly something to be able to step out from our man made environment and feel ‘at home’. But we’re creatures that live behind glass in heated rooms. Much as we’d like to be part of the greater world, we always end up among our own kind.
The last 2 lines are so good, there’s a kind of finality to them.. Really loved this poem, Jane.
Thank you 🙂 We all need to know where we come from, but I think (I hope) we can create our roots from family memories, without having to stay put in one physical place.
Okay, so, putting aside how amazing this poem is… the ending is very very very interesting… it really makes me think:
Shabbat shalom,
David
Thank you, David. I’m flattered those lines made you think. It’s an idea I carry around with me, not being rooted anywhere. My roots might end up being shallow, but I’ll create generations behind me from memories 🙂
A wondrous write and the close is marvellous. So well done.
Anna :o]
Thank you, Anna xx
Others have taken my words, so I just offer my own ditto!
Thank you for the ditto, Beverly xx
“my feet are deep in this earth” could anything be more life affirming … no.
Often mine are. Literally!
This is strong Jane, rooted and solid — full of growth energy and potential.
Thanks Rob 🙂
a wondeful peice has my toughts skirmishing.
Thank you! I’m pleased you enjoyed it enough to follow the line of thought.