Stories Telling

witnesses in time
among the lines’ flowing sighs
eternal love vibes

haphazardly stood,
our stories telling fluid
crooked mystery

j. ruth kelly, 2017, all rights reserved

Advertisements

All Those Rivers

my feet find me here
on soil and dirt speaking some
long, unending drum
song sung before all
was lost to progress killing
the unfolding feel
of soul from earth revealing
love’s eternal work.

somehow the dance moves
me beyond the fall and fear,
bounty awaiting.
mind kneels to feel
and naked knowing births earth’s
song from depths ancient.

take me always back
to the animal and sage,
my feet drinking all
those rivers erupting earth’s
resonating love.

j. ruth kelly, 2014, all rights reserved

j. ruth kelly, 2014, all rights reserved

What the Ice Storm Brings…

Four packed tightly under covers…eight feet gifting each other with warmth, one pair seeking another less warm, giving kind remedy; sharing space tangled up in an attic bedroom with no power but two candles and giggles and then sweet sleep in a hushed daylight filled with ice. Soft snores after a breakfast too big except for nothing else to do in a town coated in winter’s grasp.

j. ruth kelly, 2014, all rights reserved

j. ruth kelly, 2014, all rights reserved

Then firelight and stove top sustenance, candles lit all over a house bathed mostly in shadow and cold but oh so warm. Games and face time, firewood and laughter, gathered ice for coolers salvaging what we can. Tallulah River stone soup for feet unaccompanied, gathering hot river gems up in cloth to carry up to bed, settling in for a night of no heat.

And.

A renewed, stark, startling awareness of what conveniences pilfer,
their insipid gain robbing us of something only an ice storm can bring…
connection more profoundly felt, reliance more sweetly known.

j. ruth kelly, 2014, all rights reserved

j. ruth kelly, 2014, all rights reserved


Face time…
firelight…
turning to the earth for protection…
ingenuity…
appreciation for life’s turns less convenient
reminding us of treasure sometimes lost
in what we understand as wealth.

Maybe the earth conspires to remind us how vulnerable we are, both in our advancements and without them. And without our bonds of love, our shared space and renewed survival ability, we would wilt under a perpetually shining sun.

j. ruth kelly, all rights reserved, 2014

j. ruth kelly, all rights reserved, 2014

Either way, there’s nothing like the pleasure of finding your kids will make, not complaint, but fun in the face of one more dance with winter’s whimsy.

Back Then…

Back then
when we dug in the dirt,
pushed seeds in and began again,
running to the rivers, streams,
waiting for the deluge ‘midst the hum
of thriving schemes,
back then we knew.

We knew earth.
We knew rhythm.
We knew the taste of sweat
and stains of pride
more clean than anything
these tall towers of
acclaim
could begin to suggest.

We knew real.
We knew the best of feltness
and none of this,
none of this surreal
education machination
proclaiming prescribed “greatness”
in a gasp of inferiority screaming something wrong
wrong wrong
when never was there such.

Back then
when we heard the heavens cry,
thunder deep in our veins,
we were whole.

2011