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…