something whispered something
that was not even a word.
it was more like a silence
(from: who said this?)
ever since last year’s “creative practice” retreat i have been engaging in the practice of poetry reading in the morning before i start working with my to-do lists. mary oliver is one of my favorites – no surprise as she writes primarily about connecting with and learning from nature.
i will often run across a segment of one of her poems that i resonate with and highlight and often, the words will seem to have a direct link to photographic images i may have in my archives. so today i share some of her words matched with some of my images. connecting words and images is, for me, one of the most meaningful and satisfying forms of creative expression.
i implore you,
it’s time to come back
from the dark,
the hills are pink
i wouldn’t mind being a rose
in a field full or roses.
fear has not yet occurred to them, nor ambition.
reason they have not yet thought of.
neither do they ask how long they must be roses, and then what.
or any other foolish question.
(roses, late summer)
by the time summer
opened its green harbors
the field was nothing but flowers, flowers, flowers,
from shore to shore.
what i want in my life
is to be willing
to be dazzled –
to cast aside the weight of facts
and maybe even
to float a little
above this difficult world.
i want to believe that the imperfections are nothing –
that the light is everything – that it is more than the sum
of each flawed blossom rising and fading. and i do.
nothing but light – scalding, aortal light –
in which we are washed and washed
out of our bones
(white owl flies into and out of the field)
seriously, i could go on.... i could do this all day, but alas, duty calls, so until next time....