Wednesday 29 October 2014

broken


spirit broken out of nowhere, 
I had forgotten:  I would die –
one day of many – thrown away:
cloistered, meek in musty air,
watching minutes calcify

and stone angels turn to dust,
as birds soared high up in the sky: 
if they could live free, why not I . . .
I had a million reasons I must
seek that gift of joy and try.
  
and so, I went beyond the gate,
glancing back at where I'd been:
a self-inflicted muddled gloom
locked in a tomb, between a fate
of phantom wish and cast-off dream.

and bathed my face in winter sun
and heard the song the breezes sing
and kissed the air and skipped and ran;
and flutter-flew and dove and spun:
as if my very soul had wings.

until, at last, I came across
my wizened, wise old friend:  the tree,
her gnarled branches swayed welcome
with wild wood life and light ethos
and ancient perspicacity.

and in that transcendental space
she showed me, what I could not see – 
the wonder that was there to take
for, at that moment, in that place: 
I was as young – as I would be.



note:  the prompt at Poetry Jam this week is “Broken”.

photo:  Tree Friends – W. Bourke 

© 2014 Wendy Bourke

24 comments:

  1. smiles..truth there in the end...and who better to learn it from than a tree...when i need counsel i usually head to the woods...and oft need just to get out when feeling overwelmed...

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    1. Trees - reaching towards the sky - always seem to mend my spirits, put things in perspective and imbue a bit of pleasure into the day. Trees are life affirming, I find.

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  2. Yes, the tree is as good a counselor as many, Wendy. I think it is always good to remember as well that in any particular moment you are as young as you are going to be...so you might as well enjoy it. Smiles. We do have to 'seek' though...and try. We can't expect things to happen to us if we don't go 'half' way!

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  3. It is always wise to listen to a tree they are sturdy and have heard the whispers of those who came before. I always find peace among the trees.

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  4. This is beautiful, Wendy... what a fine lesson from the tree.

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  5. Such self-reflection.
    Yes to trees!

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  6. I find that trees have so much to tell us.. many of them have seen so much more than us.. they were here when we came they will be here when we leave.

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    1. Trees convey a sort of timelessness and yet, because they mark the passage of time, they remind us that time is precious.

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  8. Trees can be true and faithful friends

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  9. How trees can inspire, it is amazing. Whether in the branches or in its shade the tree exudes that serene feeling easy and conducive for inspiration! Truly said Wendy!

    Hank

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  10. The power of creation that shows us the eternal in us all. Loved the healing in this.

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  11. "a self-inflicted muddled gloom " - I can relate to the feeling. Sometimes our gloom has no real reason to be. Things brighten up when we look up, or around us. I enjoyed the flow of words and the serenity it conveyed.

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  12. trees...these ancient sages always inspire to look up and teach humility..so life giving they are...a beautiful poem Wendy...

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  13. Wendy,

    This is so beautiful in its poetic lilt and form. I read it several times and could almost hear a soft musical accompaniment, in the background..I love the peace and the connection found with trees in particular.

    Eileen

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  14. Ah, the freedom that comes from an adventure in the woods. There's nothing like it!

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  15. Ah it is great to reconnect with the feelings of being young. Too bad we don't fully appreciate it the first time around!

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  16. what a beautiful poem. so many lovely visuals!

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  17. Rich in imagery! Your reference to things self-inflicted is especially true. I enjoyed your work!

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  18. ... sometimes, playing hooky from life and the daily drudge of routine is just so life-affiming!

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  19. Oh Wendy this is a glorious write...The rhyme is beautiful and the words ring true!

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  20. Oh this is so lovely, so whimsical! And yet also grounded in a treasure of a truth.

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  21. We turn to whatever gives us strength to heal our broken pieces. Lovely write, Wendy.

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