Friday’s Passing Fancy/Poem: For Those Who Think They are Lost but are Only Weary

Perhaps to rediscover the bedrock

of all happiness, she crouches

in the creek’s whispering path

where rocks are made of death and life,

and water becomes liquid light.

Above, forest canopy and fleet things hover

as if to pluck out, lift this small woman,

her blood laden with cellular grief,

mind a circumnavigation of hope,

bones compacted with weariness.

Late day gold floats, settles on her skin,

explodes in the air and inside her eyes,

flings her far beyond herself,

startles tears caught in her throat that

sound like the cry of an angel or animal,

that singular voice of life as it emerges

from darker places that would steal us all

if we relented, forgetting the majesty

of it, the Love that calls and recreates us

but we do not forget, we cannot forget,

immortal and mortal, each tethered

to one and another here and there.

And the woman finds power, stands, steps away.

Friday’s Quick Pick: Escape Art

The gauze casts itself over rooftops,

breathes across ridge and foothills

like the breath of Odysseus.

It is pulled into my lungs,

subdues the gong that strikes my heart,

an intake of coolness and love, power

that obscures, protects, reveals, shelters,

secrets away what matters most.

I close eyes once to the bleeding world

and then a whisper vanishes in twilight,

the breath let go, soul aloft,

heart swollen and emptied

as tomorrow awaits more remnants of

Light to hunt and scavenge

for whatever is yet to be escaped

for wherever I must go, shall go

Friday’s Quick Pick/Poem & Photos: Summer Released

Park walks 043

I have been at length in love, overcome
with summer’s glittery, crackling beauty,
its sheer points of no return in wildest blue
and emerald that trumpets a surfeit of life.
I’ve basked in its generosity, slunk about
in valleys and peaks that dazzle and sting.
I’ve slipped into fairy’s dusk as treetops shake
their big bodies, heat coaxes perfume from my skin.
Summer has courted me, wooed me enough
that I vow patience, loyalty, passionate gratitude.
I have opened my arms, been embraced, gained a healing.

Yet I am willing to prepare for it’s denouement, to
accept its blare of wild light and music will drift afar.
I am ready to welcome eruptions of rust and brass, vibrating
air and muted nights that stir an aria of autumn,
and with it another quickening. And the chiming chill of rains.

Winter even now paces in earth’s cavernous wings.
I sense its call but turn my mind to this reckoning.
Vagabond wind travels north and circles, speaks.
The days will sooner reveal a worn raiment;
it will loosen, float about, seeds of blessings.
I will find my way to other hallowed things,
freed in skittering leaves, captured in the cape of darkness,
the stealthy cold like a spell upon every creature,
a cocoon that deepens magic, unleashes dreams
and will weave me into the sweet, tender ache of living.

Park walks 028
All photos, Cynthia Guenther Richardson

 

Friday’s Quick Pick/Poem: Sea Drift

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Pacific Ocean, 9-17, Cynthia Guenther Richardson

Sea’s breath
cashmere mist
cooling veil
lain upon
the flaring fall
bumptious minds
good fortune’s reprieve:
drift into moon’s realm
chalice of evening star

sip
deeply

Friday’s Quick Pick/Poem: Truce

Cannon Beach-Astoria-Lg Beach, 5-17 534
Photo by Cynthia Guenther Richardson

Let us, then, try to walk together
as if there were no more wars
waged between us, the gag of
damage picked apart with tender
fingers that tied the knots.

Shifting sea speaks to presiding sky
without complaining, no judgement
and no remorse; they work as one.
Can we not bear up each other, too,
in co-conspiring, with useful love?

But our battles hone mean edges
where vultures perch, waiting
for the bounty of our undoing.
Even woundings have reaped wounds
and begged for truce, it’s repose.

This, then, seems more a means to hope,
lighter steps toward the crux of us
that yet feel unnatural. Cool, sweet and
salty breezes soothe pain’s scouring.
You hesitate and turn. I am coming. Closer.