Tags
2017, 6*, arm in arm, being, blossom, Bodhisattva Vow, colour, compassion, finding, growth, identity, journey, others, practice, requires chewing, root, Sangha, sharing, true nature, weaving, writing
the practice
of writing
to weave
myself between
the threads, to
thread myself
between the
fibres to form
tiny root hairs
to form the root
to reach deep
and to reach
high and wide
to glory in the
synthesis of
all the light
to be found
to be found
colourful and
blossoming to
my own true
nature; and that
others, sibling
to my reach
and wonder,
might find the
growth to
journey too
lookit: `found this one in my notes; possibly four years old; forgotten I’d had it; found stuck like a leaf between BCA I,3; not sure if it reminds me of the quote, top left of the web page, that I put there to remind myself … sure, on reflection, it does; how can I not: offer it up, and out
————w(O)rmholes________________________________|—–
being wormhole: sweet chestnut
blossom wormhole: Lapping Reflections [Deep Within Waters] – pageant of the trees
compassion wormhole: eyes like petals
identity wormhole: under the blue and blue sky
others wormhole: silence
practice wormhole: so, how long is, a piece of string?
writing wormhole: ‘not sure …’
jewels on the page,
shining bright from the dark screen—
words from my brother
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daww; my brother’s name is John, Johnny; now I have two
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My heart just grew a couple sizes, seeing your voice.
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my heart, too, just hearing your beat
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Love this.
The beginning stanzas remind me of the word “radical” which comes from the Latin for “root”. To weave yourself between the threads, to thread yourself between the fibres, to form tiny root hairs, to form the root…and then….
to reach not only deep but high and wide…that is the radical act. That is writing. Good to see you again (and I love the quote).
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thank you, Holly
you can’t use the word ‘root’ unless pronounced like David Bellamy (a UK TV natural life of plants presenter with a very slight lisp that sounds more like ‘woot’, closely used with words like ‘undergwothe’, ‘mulch’ and ‘fibwouse’); I actually learnt my root-age’ from Sylvia Plath – she was often coming out the ground, but no one believed her when she flowered
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A jewel among jewels. I’ve missed your poems.
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thank you, Jilanne
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I really like your weave of threads, fibers, and tiny root hairs.
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I thank you, but it is to Sylvia Plath that root, earth and growth were made clear (?) to me
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