I Am Here

Tallulah River
Tallulah River

My soul is down there
deep within the river flowing ceaselessly,
growing silence, feeding depth to depth,
plumbing earth and
running the course of endless dancings.

You’ll hear me if you stop there on the forest trail
snapping ‘neath feet plodding noise and need.
Listen as you hold breath drawn in movement’s sound.
Cease the swinging arms commotion,
scratching branches, forward motion.
Hold yourself in stillest wooded sensings.

Reach in stillness searching: the call.
A whisper resounding silent courses hallowed
calls to body’s poising question.

“I am here. Deeply ‘neath and through,
I love these roots of trees drinking,
filling me to highest branch and leaf
where warmth and radiant gold shines me
from these darkest depths
then scatters me in autumn’s breeze.”

My soul is down deep calling,
in flowing silence,
the song of ancient reach.

jruthkelly © 2006, 2009

I wrote this poem in response to a question asked of me once: “Where are you, Ruth?” Much of my childhood was spent in and around two rivers in the N. Ga. mountains.

And now it’s time to hit the road…

jrk

Published by

jruthkelly

I live... for love... for truth that liberates... for growth... for beauty... for intelligent, soulful connection and so much else.

4 thoughts on “I Am Here

  1. You might appreciate this small fable. It never fails to make me smile when I read it, my river friend.

    The River

    In the valley of Kadisha where the mighty river flows, two little streams met and spoke to one another.

    One stream said, “How came you, my friend, and how was your path?”

    And the other answered, “My path was most encumbered. The wheel of the mill was broken, and the master farmer who used to conduct me from my channel to his plants, is dead. I struggled down oozing with the filth of laziness in the sun. But how was your path, my brother?”

    And the other stream answered and said, “Mine was a different path. I came down the hills among fragrant flowers and shy willows; men and women drank of me with silvery cups, and little children paddled their rosy feet at my edges, and there was laughter all about me, and there were sweet songs. What a pity that your path was not so happy.”

    At that moment the river spoke with a loud voice and said, “Come in, come in, we are going to the sea. Come in, come in, speak no more. Be with me now. We are going to the sea. Come in, come in, for in me you shall forget you wanderings, sad or gay. Come in, come in. And you and I will forget all our ways when we reach the heart of our mother the sea.” Gibran Khalil Gibran, The Wanderer

  2. I am here too. Your poem touched me, especially this paragraph:

    “I am here. Deeply ‘neath and through,
    I love these roots of trees drinking,
    filling me to highest branch and leaf
    where warmth and radiant gold shines me
    from these darkest depths
    then scatters me in autumn’s breeze.”

    I am filled (not emptied) as they take from me, I am in others as others are in me.

    Your poetry has a distinct style, I like it.

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