Kindling




I was going to say that i was 
at the breaking point, but no.

I broke.  Like a wave.  
I was broken.  Like 
a tree still growing but 
weighed down by the 
snows of time and terror 
and change and inertia.

Life took me over its knee
and snapped me like a dried 
branch and i wondered what 
fire was it kindling with me?  
what fire shall we build together?
Will I rise there-after or will i blow 
away with the ash in the wind?






13 thoughts on “Kindling

  1. you’ve been playing with this for awhile (I’m glancing up at the false face series you explored); it’s not the end of everything, just the end of what you thought it might be, just the space of what you thought was the case, was not: that is space you can use; embrace the space, embrace that space; I know you like Alan Watts, he said you cannot bite your own teeth [no matter how much you believe you can], realisation of that space opens up the view on ALL the biting; there is power in this … eventually; love to you all

    Liked by 1 person

    • Indeed, I think I always am playing with this, in one way or another–worrying it like a bone in the dark of the pantry.
      This is definitely a time of re-evaluation, of time and space and energy. Where it all goes, where it’s all going, where it should rest.
      Yes, it is funny that we have just moved from approximately 7,000 square feet to 1,100 and yet I had run out of space and am only now finding it again. I had lost my place, my stillness, and am feeling around again for where I left it….I know it’s in here somewhere…

      Just came across this on the very same subject:

      https://www.brainpickings.org/2014/11/10/pico-iyer-the-art-of-stillness/

      I had all kinds of room, but no space–no stillness.
      Thank you–

      Liked by 1 person

    • Also the part where you think you have to be heading SOMEWHRE–that that is what one is supposed to be doing, that that is what one MUST do! And NO!

      The wave does not seek the shore.
      The fire does not seek the sky.
      Ash does not wish to be wood.

      Thank you my friend for this insight.
      Much love–

      Like

  2. I like it that you’ve written this poem in a personal voice and at the same time expressed a universal aspect of human experience. Good work. I especially enjoy this line:

    “Life took me over its knee
    and snapped me like a dried
    branch and i wondered what
    fire was it kindling with me? ”

    Very Rumi-esque. Yum.

    ((HUGS)) for you and yours.

    Alice

    Like

    • “I like it that you’ve written this poem in a personal voice and at the same time expressed a universal aspect of human experience.”

      Dear Alice, you could not possibly have paid me a higher compliment as this is, in my view, precisely what good poetry does. I do not like to speak of shoulds so I simply say that this is what it does when it is working well. Although it is hard not to see and talk about poems that are and are not doing what they should, like errant little children playing well or playing badly.

      And there you go again, bringing up Rumi—Again, I thank you–

      much love

      Liked by 1 person

  3. This is stunning work… this part:

    “Life took me over its knee
    and snapped me like a dried
    branch and i wondered what
    fire was it kindling with me?”

    … is pretty much exactly my own wonderings at present. Thanks for giving me a new lens!

    Like

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