Language exerts hidden power, like the moon on the tides.
~Rita Mae Brown
Happy Poetry Friday! I hope December has had some high points for you. I really enjoy my family's tradition of giving homemade gifts. My daughter Elena painted the snake I'm going to use for Jone's New Year postcard. (If you aren't participating in Jone's postcard exchange but you would like one of mine, let me know.)
A reassuring excerpt from "Our Revision" by Kelly Cass Falzone:
...Science tells us we are mostly space, mostly not matter.
Maybe then, we’ll someday be more of what we once were.
If most of what is me is what cannot be seen, then my
unsomethingness will still be here for my son; yes?
Some say they can still smell their lost beloveds. I say:
Yes, of course. That which you cannot see is right beside
you. The sea can be heard in a shell or a soup can. It is
not a trick; it’s there to be heard. And we are— like the sea,
and the seeing— we are larger than our bodies; consider
the expansive contraction of the tides, the way light travels
from every star. It keeps going. And your breath, when it
leaves you, is still your breath. Still yours, and mine, too.
************
Want to share a brave poem? Info here.
More Art 4 All has the Poetry Friday round-up. Thanks, Michelle!
10 comments:
I like the mystical quality to Falzone's poem, and that "we are larger than our bodies" we (our spirits) move beyond the physical. Thanks for sharing this intriguing poem Tabatha!
Whitman was onto something: we do indeed contain multitudes and we would do well to remember that about ourselves and all the others who are working (bravely) to repair, advocate, nurture, and shine.
Mmmm..... mostly space, mostly not matter. Something this is dreamily, airily, wildly comforting to me....
Wonderful! That which you cannot see is right beside you. How very comforting. Thank you for all your thoughtful posts and poetry this year, Tabetha.
Oh, this is breathtaking (no pun intended). Thank you, Tabatha. This is one of my favorites you've shared! Happy New Year!
I love this: consider
the expansive contraction of the tides, the way light travels
from every star.
It reminds me of my 2024 OLW: Expand and my connection to the ocean.
If less is more, then our nothingness must be our most greatness, vibrating in the spaces between us. This makes me feel better about all the books I am not writing ; ) while I am busy creating connections with young poets. A beautiful choice as always, Tabatha. Thx for your letter, too!
"And your breath, when it/leaves you, is still your breath. Still yours, and mine, too." Some great food for thought here, Tabatha. Thank you!
Tabatha, I LOVE "my unsomethingness."
Tabatha, I like the line, "That which you cannot see is right beside
you." It might serve as my kernal. Thank you for sharing.
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