And if I found in me
a spot of land where
anything could grow—
some miraculous soil
that knows only yes—
then what would
I dare sow?
In such tender
territory, even breath
might take root.
A whisper becomes
a seed becomes
an unknowable
flowering. A song,
of course, I’d
plant a love song.
But imagine if,
as I knelt, lips to earth,
a loneliness spilled
from my pockets,
strewing its millions
of tired spores
throughout the plot.
And what if an arrow
from an old wound
chose then to dislodge?
Is it in fear or in joy
I dance at the edge
of inevitable fertility, longing
for the impossible—
to plant only beauty,
its fruits reseeding
all around us growing
only more beauty,
more beauty.
Lovely, Rosemerry, you evoke a delicate eagerness for the possible, at least a vital hope for the kinder world we long for
Ah, Rick, I had a little revelation this early morning that there is beauty, too, in the arrows, beauty, too, in the loneliness, that there is a calling to find beauty there. Thanks for the comment, for finding in the poem the ³delicate eagerness,² I love that phrase. r
Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer http://www.wordwoman.com tel. 970-728-0399
From: “comment-reply@wordpress.com” Reply-To: Date: Sunday, January 31, 2016 at 3:52 PM To: Rosemerry Trommer Subject: [A Hundred Falling Veils] Comment: “Inner Eden”
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Such a great metaphor, I can almost believe in the actual garden, but those loss-of-the-garden Eden overtones are also so real. Lines 11-14 🙂
This is truly beautiful. And, don’t loneliness and old wounds often open us up to plant those seeds of beauty within those cracks?
Good morning, and yes, yes … the morning after I wrote it, I had such a clear sense that the invitation was also to find the beauty in the loneliness, the arrows … and, as you say, to see how those cracks open us up for more spaciousness. Thank you for the insight here, so beautifully said in your comment!
I look forward to reading more of your beautiful words!