I sometimes envy those who chose to come to this Earth having adopted a religion or a way of life to concentrate on what lessons needed to be learned or just to enjoy life. It is only delaying what must be done eventually, and that is to confront the history either chosen or mandated. It will need to be done sometime and I give what blessing we each have, and give profusely. It is a damnably hard work.
This poem, ‘I will speak’ was a Given, as much of my work has been. The footwork was mine, every step of the way. It was not my intent to post this particular one, but when my eyes saw it this morning, immediately was given the artwork done possibly 35 or 40 years ago when I was deep into the journey augmented by Claudia’s art work from about two years ago. I could see the two pieces spoke the meaning of the poem.
I leave the meaning to the reader bringing his or her own history. My explanation would need explanations profuse. We all are more than we appear and I have used up whatever bundles of energy lying about unclaimed. I have picked these bundles up like an alley picker to bring me to this time crowding a century. It’s your turn.
I Will Speak. . .
I will speak of the membrane
covering tightly the beginning
where memories are housed.
It is with comfort I see
in my head and feel in my heart,
spaces where I walked and talked
and hungered for Light.
It is a thin film covering
the foetus of memories
rolled up with bony knees
pressing my heart. From where?
Except that place or places
I was cautioned about for being out too far.
I brought them with me, dressed
in pulverized skin that became coats for us
always too loose,
poem written in May 2013
Claudia Hallissey heart art
(my infant on wood plaque )