i want
and then
stop wanting
have
and then
stop having
speak
and then
stop speaking
give
and then
stop giving
in the presence
of witness
i be here
seen or heard
felt or imagined
i be here now
being
s t i l l
elizaBeth Benson's poetic journey through her daily life as an artist, mom, spirit, lover, human being
Showing posts with label place. Show all posts
Showing posts with label place. Show all posts
Sunday, April 27, 2008
i want and then...
Labels:
be here now,
being a writer,
grief life,
i be here,
place,
presence,
silence,
stillness,
want
just one silence
just one
silence
shimmering
in the space
for maria
in cluded
here as
what could
have been
if the gift
of her
came wrapped
in human
packaging
to this
joyful
saturday
circle
of lovely day spilling inot
remem-
bered
silences
still.
silence
shimmering
in the space
for maria
in cluded
here as
what could
have been
if the gift
of her
came wrapped
in human
packaging
to this
joyful
saturday
circle
of lovely day spilling inot
remem-
bered
silences
still.
Labels:
community,
memory,
place,
poetry,
sharing the journey,
those who are not here,
witness,
writing
if i make a space
if i make a space
if i leave a path clear for you--or
even overgrown
if i sit, crazy in the emptiness of
without you or the full to overflowing
only you could get glose enough to give me
if i sit in the piece of now that's offered
quiet, silent, empty as the upright glass
and wait without waiting for you or
anything else--you or anyone--this
or anything--if i empty of self and
song and story and little pieces of sacred
paper or quiet words whispered to
the dead leaves in the ink that
flows when i hold the pen
is it you or me? left there as the
glass of emptiness? the vessel of
yes? the empty space of peace?
i am ready for emptiness--
i just can not bring myself to let go
when i go...
but i will go.
if i leave a path clear for you--or
even overgrown
if i sit, crazy in the emptiness of
without you or the full to overflowing
only you could get glose enough to give me
if i sit in the piece of now that's offered
quiet, silent, empty as the upright glass
and wait without waiting for you or
anything else--you or anyone--this
or anything--if i empty of self and
song and story and little pieces of sacred
paper or quiet words whispered to
the dead leaves in the ink that
flows when i hold the pen
is it you or me? left there as the
glass of emptiness? the vessel of
yes? the empty space of peace?
i am ready for emptiness--
i just can not bring myself to let go
when i go...
but i will go.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)