in the quiet moments of my day
i try to practice complete presence.
i breathe deeply and think,
this is me breathing in
this is me breathing out,
all the while knowing that these aspirations
are wasted by my inability
to consecrate all time and all thought
to full consciousness.
this knowledge frustrates all that
is inside me, struggling for peace, and i want
to scratch words into my arms to remember:
be grateful.
be mindful.
be wakeful.
in these low twilights i need
sleeves of tattoos, reminding me
that i am me and i am you and i am here.
i need kestrels on my shoulders and
cormorants at my feet and
spirals on both palms telling me
to hold what is mortal
and to open my veins
to whatever comes.
cooking again, stubborn as hell.
3 weeks ago
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1 comments:
The end of the first stanza weakens slightly. The last stanza is remarkable in the bird imagery and how it brings us to the air. "this knowledge frustrates all" repeats all too soon and thus weakens the piece. Fix it. The three line bridge between the two, tattoed on your arms as they are, function well as a little three step dance into the last stanza ... with the kestrels and cormorants and this leads us to the spirals on your palms (a very celtic image you know), opening the spirit self to its mortality? I like the open veins image though I confess I am not clear as to its meaning. But its resonance is certainly there. Well, I am so often too abstract myself it seems rather a quibble at this stage. Air, give us the freedom of the air. Do you think that leaving the physical self behind allows us to roam the spiritual world? Janne had numerous out of body experiences along the way. Of course we had better psychedelics than are available today.
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