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Posts Tagged ‘uncertainty’

 

 

 

Tonight the path

is tired of being

a path, would rather

be a leaf. Enough

of trodding. Enough

of this one foot

in front of the other.

Rather to unfurl

and serve and let go

and get lost. Really,

how hard could it be?

Something about

“path” suggests

certainty. The path

feels like a fraud.

It’s exhausted

with arrivals. It wants

to fall off. It wants

to cartwheel across the field

like last year’s leaves

in spring wind.

It wants to have

no idea at all

where it is going.

 

 

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Hello friends,

I hope you can join me in a four-week poetry discussion class on living with uncertainty.

Week 1: Accepting Uncertainty as a Part of Life

Week 2: How Inviting the Unknown Helps us Live More Richly

Week 3: How we Find Ourselves by Getting Lost

Week 4: The Generative Power of Not Knowing

The class is offered through Weehawken Arts in Ridgway, Colorado, 12-2 p.m. on Wednesdays. To read more or sign up, please click https://www.weehawkenarts.org/classes/22-classes/creative-arts/153-living-with-uncertainty-a-poetry-discussion-series-with-rosemerry-wahtola-trommer

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Between us a silence

so fragile that half of me

fears it will shatter

 

and cut us, half of me fears

it will erupt and we’ll burn,

and half of me thinks

 

if I stay still enough,

something beautiful

might emerge.

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between the question

and the answer is the garden

where the rose is still open—

soft-petalled and fragrant—

regardless of what comes next

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Yesterday, I spoke with KSJD radio in a 10-minute interview about how poems–both writing and reading them–might help us navigate uncertain times. You can listen to the interview here.

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One Curiosity

 

 

eavesdropping on my own heart

wishing I could understand the whispers—

rustle of golden leaves

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You do not need to know what comes next.

There is always another storm, and you

cannot hang the tent out to dry before

it has gotten wet. You cannot shovel snow

that has yet to fall.

 

Put down the shovel. Breathe

into the dark spaces of your back,

feel how they open like cave doors

to let in the light.

Let your face soften. Let the creases

fall out of your brow. The mind,

no matter how clear, will never become

a crystal ball.

 

The wisest part of your body

knows to run when it hears

the first crashes of rock fall.

It does not pause then to consider

metamorphic or igneous,

nor does it hesitate to wonder

what might have pushed them down.

It is no small thing to trust yourself.

 

It’s okay to cry. It is right

that love should shake your body,

that you should find yourself trembling

in the rubble and dust

after all your certainties come down.

 

Your breath has not left you.

Here is the morning rain. It opens

the scent of the leaves, of the air.

All around you the world is changing.

 

What are you waiting for?

Here is the cup of mint tea

growing stronger in itself.

Here on this cliff of uncertainty

there is a stillness in you

so spirited, so alive

the wisest part of your body

is dancing.

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