the way you hold my hand,
it makes me wonder,
do you see me?
do you feel the pulse beneath
my callused knuckles?
can you see the blue veins
of my roots flowing
as my great grandmother did
east across the pacific
and as my father did too,
generations later,
and with so much less to lose.
and because of those journeys
here i am.
now your hands glide
smoothly across mine,
through each finger
with such detail.
yet your eyes float east.
filled with a glaze.
maybe you cannot see
where i am from;
how deep my story runs.
so you cannot possibly see
how far i will go.
--
i don't remember when i started that poem, or where it was going...but i just found it and don't want it to get lost to my endless clutter. it definitely is worth revisiting and massaging into something greater. stay tuned to watch as this poem evolves...
some other notes i had from that day lost to my memory:
Rumi - harder place to start
"follow the golden thread"
"art for art's sake vs. the second level/deeper meaning"
William Stafford: "Down in My Heart"(years in prison for peacefully objecting to WWII)
take on a mentor, even though they are dead. she took william stafford on as her mentor, and from beyond the grave, he took her on too.
Most famous "Traveling in the Dark"
--
oh yes! all those notes were from my first talk with sojourner! my mentor telling me about her mentor.
a writer's work really is never done...
xo...lika
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