Thursday, August 4, 2016

After Fasting

I've fasted all night, and my eyes
are hungry for light to blind
the second sight of my bad dreams.
I crave blooms and birds to sing fifths and thirds -
that wild mix
of harmony.
Sing, world, sing!
Words emerge, not by will,
but by waiting.
Sounds shape syllables.  Syllables
settle on my shoulders and whisper in my ears
Be gentle with the morning.
And, I am, for a moment, I am.
Soon enough, though, my eyes wander towards work.
There are weeds in the zinnias,
the tomatoes need water,
and it's getting hotter by the minute.
I remember that last night's dream had a grackle in it.
His feathers were pressed flat against a pane of glass;
he was trapped and struggling to get outside.
Now, awake, I wonder at a blue sky
alive with flight -
black wings cutting through white clouds
like words on a page.

An rough draft for Stacie's prompt at Real Toads


Fireblossom said...

You know....there's great power in being able to write like you can. It's a rush to read; it must be a rush to create, too.

hedgewitch said...

"Words emerge, not by will,
but by waiting." but this is so much more than a poem of process--it sees with the eye of the min, and thinks with the heart--no mean feat. That final image is both terrifying and yet also, beautiful and liberating.

Shawna said...

So do the black wings belong to the grackle, or the hawk determined to eat it?

(I just had to look-up this bird and read all about it.)

"light to blind
the second sight of my bad dreams"

Excellent poem, especially the opening and closing.

Sherry Blue Sky said...

The grackle against the pane of glass, the sky alive with black bird write so wonderfully, Kelli. I see it all. I especially like being gentle with the morning. These days, when my creaky head lifts itself off the pillow, I implore morning to be gentle with me, LOL.

Outlawyer said...

This has a lovely almost conversational tone to it, and yet manages to be deeply poetic. The images all work beautifully both on a real world and metaphoric level. Thanks. k.

Kerry O'Connor said...

Words emerge, not by will,
but by waiting....

Whoosh! What a piece of wisdom!
I love the progression here, between waking world, dream world and birds. As for the final lines: so splendid and vivid, I wish I had written them first!

Stacie Eirich said...

Oh, Mama, this I LOVE - it went straight into my heart as I read. I too crave the blooms, birds, fifths and thirds! Love how you wove musical language into your poem. Yes, I want to shout "Sing, World, Sing!" and I always want to wonder at the sky. Your ending with wings like words -- is exquisite. Thanks so much for sharing.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

I've been reading it over and over, for the sheer pleasure if it, which I don't want to end. A magical poem.

Rosemary Nissen-Wade said...

*of it

Hannah said...

Oh!! I love every bit of this...I can relate to that feeling of the day getting on a bit too fast and I adore the likening of black words to white page/black wings on white clouds...visually stunning, Mama Zen!

Gillena Cox said...

""Words emerge, not by will,
but by waiting." "

You know that so describes my process. try as i might sometimes, all the visuals are there but i must wait on my muse

My response was late read it

much love...