Time was here
but didn’t tell
just one of the uninvited guests
invited to witness and celebrate
the turning of the eons –
dawn and dusk collided
shadows created shapes of light
the horizon peered at me
clapping, opening up
the space of freshly baked paint
peeling unnecessary layers
Time is here
I am not separated from my people
grief and pity join us
laughter and play unite
neither nos nor yesses
either shoulds or coulds
whoweare is not divided
Time will be here
the square root of an emotion
equals travel in space and time
mere metal materialising dreams
flawless dimensions, hard to perceive
DNA passing on messages in tongues
waiting for fulfillment
I’m on my own prompt for #OctPoWriMo today. And joining #ThursdayDoors. I’ll explain.
In Zagreb this morning at 10 AM a workshop started, that I would have loved to attend. It’s called Transgenerational Haunting, and I’ve attended it in Amsterdam in June. It was incredibly healing and enriching. I can’t be in Zagreb, due to a broken foot and financial issues. But I CAN picture myself there in the workshop, because I was there last year (and wrote poems). So I decided to attend the workshop in spirit, from my own house.
In the Amsterdam workshop I got to know a poem by Czeslaw Milosz, called Late Ripeness. My poem today was written after reading that poem again, creating my own associations line by line, in the spirit of the workshop. I recommend reading the Milosz’s poem. When I looked it up, I read that “Czeslaw Milosz ranks among the most respected figures in twentieth-century Polish literature, as well as one of the most respected contemporary poets in the world: he was awarded the Nobel Prize for Literature in 1980”.
I’ve decided to also use this poem for #ThursdayDoors, a fun and inspiring initiative hosted by Norm. I remember clearly how the very first picture I took in Zagreb was of a door. In a less literal sense, the workshop in Zagreb last year opened the door for me to start a new education. I simply wanted more of this.
So, now I’m here, with my broken foot. Logic says I can’t go to Spain for my education this year. My heart refuses that logic, and still searched for ways to attend. I want the learning, I want the connection, I want the healing. I’m filled with desire. Which I usually find a scary place to be. At the moment I prefer it over denial of the desire, or accepting the very possible reality of not going. IF I end up going, against the odds, I promise to take pictures of doors!