Spring Shadow

I have decided to expand the focus of this blog from wild foods of Block Island in the physical sense to wild food for the soul. With that, having just completed another wonderful, nurturing and stimulating weekend at The Block Island Poetry Project, www.bipoetryproject.com, I feel moved to share the poem I read at the reading in the sanctuary (literal and metaphorical) of the Harbor Baptist Church last night.

It's actually the first poem I've finished in two years, not for lack of trying, and I consider it a breakthrough poem in other ways as well. For those who know my previous work, you'll see it's much simpler. I feel simpler, in a good way, more connected to my body.  Most of my past poems were coming from a traumatized consciousness that was located outside my body, floating above the earth, instead of connecting to it in a direct way through my senses and breath. Writing poetry and being in community with other poets has provided me with so much grace and healing I can barely remember who I used to be. Thank you. And thank you for reading this new. Take it into your bodies and breathe. Don't be afraid to lay on the earth. Believe your desires are beautiful, especially the ones you believe can never be satisfied. 

 

Spring Shadow

When the deer lowered her head to drink

she was so lean I could see

water ripple under her fur

as muscles let go

of all the times she had frozen.

I wanted so much to stroke

the bridge of her nose, the bones of her face

under soft fur. I wanted to lie with her

in the goldenrod, for her to teach me

how to touch the earth with my whole body,

belly down, as if I belonged to it.

But she leaped into the brush, and I

sank into the goldenrod

under the shadow of a dream

I didn’t want, knowing thorns

would tear my skin if I followed.

I wanted so much—

the source of tears,

to know if dreams began or ended

with thirst.