Found some old poems literally in my closet


A depiction of the dark night of my soul. A painting done in 2005, It still hangs in the house as a reminder of how far I’ve come along this journey.

I’m not saying these are great literary works but before I toss these little scrap papers in the garbage I thought I’d copy and post a couple of them here. I really don’t even like when poems rhyme, especially when it is so sing song-ish. But, like hearing a familiar song or taking in a certain scent, I remember the sleepy eyed place I was in when writing these. They are from a time in my life when I was just at the very beginning of trying to have a better understanding of who I was and where it was I was trying to go. Another link, perhaps in the chain of my evolving consciousness; a small record of my awakening. Anyway, I thought I’d post them here partly to hold a space for this time in my life and partly because I thought maybe the reader might be able to relate to some of it. Either way, they are just a sample of random thoughts I’m not ready to discard without record…here they are.

My Soul’s  Dark Night       (5/2006)

You know how when you’re too tired to sleep

You ever just sit in the stillness steep

Stuck in the sucked breath of tortured thought

Chained words not spoken, lessons taught?

That would be where I am tonight

A crumpled heap, having white flagged the fight;

Resigned to reviewing my failures and given out

God only knows why I worry what life’s about.

There are always battles raged and sighings lost

It doesn’t make sense to try and tally the cost.

For in this darkness there is one truth, hell bent

I don’t have to always protect and relent

no doubt things always look different

with quieted, wisened eyes in the morning.

 

 

In the Middle (5/2006)

I held her frail young body with praise and song

ribbons bouncing tender in birth

like the thick scent of honeyed rubber striking the earth.

We rejoiced in the pinks and yellows of dawn

A pregnant stem unfolding in bloom.

I held her frail old body with tenderness and fear

Choosing carefully my words with darkness released

Watching her eyelids fold under the weight of her tears

Moaning low in the blues and grays of damp dusk

A dry and crackled leaf molds, turning to dust.

How strange it is to care for these two

One that is dying and one that is new

And here I am lying in bed with you

Holding fast and tight-knuckled

To somewhere in the middle.

WANT TO USE THIS ARTICLE IN YOUR E-ZINE OR WEB SITE?

Please do! Just be sure to include this complete blurb with it:

 

I am a 42 year old mother of 3, living in Florida with my partner and youngest child. Like the mythological phoenix, I have been reborn out of the ashes of my former way of life and have, for the last several years, set out on an exploration of self expression through visual art and creative writing. I am immensely grateful to feel a part of every living thing in existence and the emergence of a growing evolution of consciousness within and throughout. I am interested in all aspects of energy healing and spiritual transformation and have just recently become a student of Reiki. I understand there is always a choice and I try to choose love over fear at every turn. I am grateful for all of the other women in this group and for their ever present support and guidance. Jennifer Bothast

 

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