Tropical Depression
A poem for storms without and within
Hello friends,
Tropical Storm Debby is currently dumping all her baggage on our heads here in Florida. There is just enough wind and rain to make for a lovely, lazy day in this great state of chaos. Here’s a poem for Debby (and for us).
THREE TANKAS FOR THE STORM
out over the sea the storm gathers together we wait for her growth there is silence in the pause while we contemplate release she arrives softly a steady gentle rain falls but she takes her time demanding to be noticed the sky's tears drip down my face land disconnects her from the sea where she was born broken and fading eventually all of us will return to what we were
Until next time,
Yardena
WEEKEND POTPOURRI:
Currently on repeat:
Please enjoy this wonderfully silly walk through the countryside with Tom Cox.
A(nother) poem:
THE PRESENCE OF ABSENCE
By Kate Mapother (from her Substack Life at the Bottom of the Canyon)
It’s late & I’m awake thinking nothing good ever happens. It’s 3am, and 3am is a room full of worst-case scenarios. On the other side of the door, the seed of a day I plowed under with tight neck and long stride is reaching through dirt for the sky. Stars flicker like altar candles, old sun turns to water on blades of grass. Miles away, someone I love is breathing. On this side of the door, the presence of her absence runs lengthwise along my clavicle, headlong toward my throat. Something pressing to cut open in me. Something urgent to say about everything that isn’t here. It is a rainfire. A conversation with smoke & moon that feels like panning for gold on land I stole. It hints at something broken— as if broken isn’t the way in & always a way out. It syncs its watch with grief— as if grief were ever on-time. It lives in the minute hands of 3am— as if 3am is the room where forever is kept. I get out of bed. Stand in the yard. Look up at the beauty nighttime stole from shiny dead things. In the morning, there are grass clippings in my sheets. What more do I need to know about love other than it breathes miles away from here, and here, at the same time.
I've never heard a storm quite describe in that way - like a living person. Lovely!