On Second Glance
A poem for things that are not always what they seem
I’ve had a second blood patch, but I am continuing to deal with symptoms from the CSF leak. Even so, I’m trying to find a little bit of hope.
On Second Glance
Even when all things seem still
and unmoving, the clouds continue
to traverse the sky. Blue is revealed
with time and gentle coaxing, coating
the beings below in azure splendor.
When a shadow passes overhead,
look up, for the birds offer a kindness
for tired eyes. Their wings whisper
secrets learned from the unending
back and forth. If you listen,
there is wisdom in the wind.
And if I am the shadow
that means a light is radiating
on a part of me that is upright,
skin singing beneath the shining
of the sun’s warm embrace. I need
only wait until noon to find her again.
WEEKEND POTPOURRI:
Currently on repeat:
A(nother) poem:
RAIN
By Tove Ditlevsen
Now the heart-leaves of the birch are rinsed of old sunshine and the dust of summer days – when the harvest moon rose late at night, burning coolly through fevered branches, and the wind rustled in its dry crown. Oh, those nights, abundant with hope and words gentle as caresses. There they hung, covered in dust, every aching, wrecked promise now swept away towards the shores of nothingness. The absentminded city meets blank stares as it dreams in the soft evening breeze. It can’t understand the thirst of yellow fields, but stones and people can also drink and breathe the late sweetness of autumn. So fall, little droplets, onto our hearts, release summer’s scent from the wet hedges, a new freedom like surmounted pain – heavy dreams loosen their hold, and it’s as if all bad things break when the good rain comes.
There's a saying "the devil is in the details" but in your case it's the saints and angels just profoundly beautiful writing. Something tell me for you it's effortless.
Your poems are like fresh spring water. Don’t bottle this water, keep it running wild.