
Remembering this moment. Saturday. Iron Lake, Idaho. The quiet of morning. Stacking / balancing a few stones (thx Chris Corrigan for introducing me to such many years ago). Ripe with joy.
Remembering this poem to, For When People Ask, by Colorado Poet Rosemerry Wahtola Trommer. Thx Jesikah for posting earlier.
I want a word that means
okay and not okay,
more than that: a word that means
devastated and stunned with joy.
I want the word that says
I feel it all all at once.
The heart is not like a songbird
singing only one note at a time,
more like a Tuvan throat singer
able to sing both a drone
and simultaneously
two or three harmonics high above it—
a sound, the Tuvans say,
that gives the impression
of wind swirling among rocks.
The heart understands swirl,
how the churning of opposite feelings
weaves through us like an insistent breeze
leads us wordlessly deeper into ourselves,
blesses us with paradox
so we might walk more openly
into this world so rife with devastation,
this world so ripe with joy.
And here we are.




Even the stones are leaning in to this one!
Yup. Loads of fun Chris.
It’s like they’re standing as sentinels beside the lake. Wonderfully peaceful!
Thx Jerry. Yup, fun to build and then enjoy. 🙂
I love your choice of poems. This one is especially perfect for now.
I will start stine sculpting
Thx Chris
Thx Tenn
Love
Janice
Thx Janice. A few memories that go back a long way. It’s good that your art is in the world Janice. And art such as this too. 🙂