Wednesday, July 27, 2016
Thursday, July 21, 2016
Thursday, July 14, 2016
THERE is a wolf in me ... fangs pointed for tearing gashes ... a red tongue for raw meat ... and the hot lapping of blood-I keep this wolf because the wilderness gave it to me and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fox in me ... a silver-gray fox ... I sniff and guess ... I pick things out of the wind and air ... I nose in the dark night and take sleepers and eat them and hide the feathers ... I circle and loop and double-cross.
There is a hog in me ... a snout and a belly ... a machinery for eating and grunting ... a machinery for sleeping satisfied in the sun-I got this too from the wilderness and the wilderness will not let it go.
There is a fish in me ... I know I came from saltblue water-gates ... I scurried with shoals of herring ... I blew waterspouts with porpoises ... before land was ... before the water went down ... before Noah ... before the first chapter of Genesis.
There is a baboon in me ... clambering-clawed ... dog-faced ... yawping a galoot's hunger ... hairy under the armpits ... here are the hawk-eyed hankering men ... here are the blond and blue-eyed women ... here they hide curled asleep waiting ... ready to snarl and kill ... ready to sing and give milk ... waiting-I keep the baboon because the wilderness says so.
There is an eagle in me and a mockingbird ... and the eagle flies among the Rocky Mountains of my dreams and fights among the Sierra crags of what I want ... and the mockingbird warbles in the early forenoon before the dew is gone, warbles in the underbrush of my Chattanoogas of hope, gushes over the blue Ozark foothills of my wishes-And I got the eagle and the mockingbird from the wilderness.
O, I got a zoo, I got a menagerie, inside my ribs, under my bony head, under my red-valve heart-and I got something else: it is a man-child heart, a woman-child heart: it is a father and mother and lover: it came from God-Knows-Where: it is going to God-Knows-Where-For I am the keeper of the zoo: I say yes and no: I sing and kill and work: I am a pal of the world: I came from the wilderness.
Saturday, July 9, 2016
Sunday, July 3, 2016
Birth of a flower
When you're young, the whole world, a lifetime(!) is ahead of you...a seemingly endless expanse of time...an intriguing, mysterious enigma to be explored, discovered, enjoyed and experienced. Wonder washes over you like a gentle summer rain daily, hourly...minute by minute. Everything is new, fresh, ecstatic.
Then time & life intervene.
Things become known, explained, routine. Sadly, the mysterious slowly becomes the mundane.
You wake up one morning and the majority of your life is no longer ahead of you, but behind you, in that far off land called memory. You have no idea how it happened so suddenly, the passing of decades...not years, but decades. A new millineum is no longer new...
Your days become numbered...there's a red DEAD END sign in the blurry distance, a mere speck, but becoming closer and clearer with each passing week, hour, day...
No one gets out alive...not even you and me. xo
Before the World IntrudedReturn me to those infant years,
before I woke from sleep,
when ideas were oceans crashing,
my dreams blank shores of sand.
Transport me fast to who I was
when breath was fresh as sight,
my new parts — unfragmented —
shielded faith from unkind light.
Draw for me a figure whole, so different
from who I am. Show me now
this picture: who I was
when I began.
By Michele Rosenthal