Friday, April 4, 2008

The Moon And Little Frieda

A cool small evening shrunk to a dog bark and the clank of a bucket --

And you listening.
A spider's web, tense for the dew's touch.
A pail lifted, still and brimming -- mirror
To tempt a first star to a tremor.

Cows are going home in the lane there, looping the hedges with their warm
wreaths of breath --

A dark river of blood, many boulders,
Balancing unspilled milk.
"Moon!" you cry suddenly, "Moon! Moon!"

The moon has stepped back like an artist gazing amazed at a work
That points at him amazed.

--Ted Hughes

Sometimes there are words so beautiful that they make me want to weep. Beautiful words painting a beautiful picture in my head. How I wish I could translate them into paint and torn paper correctly. But somehow they never come out with the depth that I feel them in my heart. But I will keep trying because ultimately....the process brings me so much joy. Even when at times it feels like a punishment to have all this energy and feeling inside of my body fighting to come out. And speaking of my body, here is an affirmation poem I wrote to myself:

Love this body

Only a shell

Not the true essence of who

I am

Only a glove

Covering the whispers of

my soul.

-Tamara - April 2008

1 comment:

barbara burkard said...

BEAUTIFUL! THE STILLNESS OF YOUR WORDS RESONATE WITH THE GLORY OF YOU...

HUGZ