I hear god up there laughing
in her sleeve then weeping
on bent knees then sweetly
giving head to something sublime so
brightly rising shine on
all we refuse to see.
I feel thunder up there down
all swelling ‘round a telling
us all the place of storming
calling rainfall to the ground
our only found of soul
where feltness whispers wisdom
and
kingdoms crumble in the wake
of earth’s crash us shattering into
the soft skin
of fragile, fierce, fertile, flow being
bent straight to the root
digging deep, steeper stilling
down to the center where
nothing fills something strains
births
ancient tree of fullness within
unfolding without
richly
beyond all loss.
J. Ruth Kelly 
[…] from here. This entry was posted in Poetry, Ruba'iyat and tagged Wine. Bookmark the permalink. […]
Upon the quiet steeps the tree closed its eyes,
Hearkening to the whispers of a lost paradise,
Her veins pulsed deeper into her mother’s womb,
Warmth seeped her body – ah: I see with no eyes.
You have given birth to something quite beautiful; to be alive and be able to express it. And how reason pales in grasping all this.
I loved the art.
How little do we need to be happy. To “have” much less and to “be” much more.
wonderful…love the poetic description of tree… big smiles here.
thank you for this, pierre. your affirming presence is a nourishing witness.
how little indeed, and a great wealth it is we all can share…
Absolutely love what you do with words, JRuth. I can feel this one and then saw the image of the tree. Magnificent!
I’m glad someone likes this besides me. Most all of my poetry comes out of me like a spring overflowing, my brain tags along as a secondary aid and I later find the layers. It’s a feltness, a spiritual practice of responsiveness to life’s influences, not a mental strategy. Thank you…