I found a cracked uncertain place
And watered seedlings there, with grace
A forest grew, with flowers fair
Upon inspection, nothing there!
The crack since sealed, and now shuts tight
Tho forest tries with all its might
To grow in that unholy place
But without water, only waste.
And hear the forest creak and moan
With sigh and rustle, cry and groan
Where nothing but the wind seeps through
The vines that twist my heart askew.
I'll walk beyond that crack one day
And laugh upon that sordid play
But now it seems there is no chart
To bridge the cracks upon my heart.
And watered seedlings there, with grace
A forest grew, with flowers fair
Upon inspection, nothing there!
The crack since sealed, and now shuts tight
Tho forest tries with all its might
To grow in that unholy place
But without water, only waste.
And hear the forest creak and moan
With sigh and rustle, cry and groan
Where nothing but the wind seeps through
The vines that twist my heart askew.
I'll walk beyond that crack one day
And laugh upon that sordid play
But now it seems there is no chart
To bridge the cracks upon my heart.
24 comments:
A melancholy masterpiece, Cat.
The first two lines alone are
like a psalm, so beautiful and
meaningful. I can imagine this
poem read 50 years from now and
continue to comfort. Thank you.
Thank you Cynthia, it certainly is a comfort to write. It helps sometimes to put form and structure into uncertainty, that in itself is a comfort...
I'm getting excited about your upcoming epiphany!
Into those cracks blow despair and cold. And yet you know that it will pass. Why, then, does that knowledge not speed the healing process along? Perhaps there is too big a crack to bridge between head and heart. Only time, and continued self-awareness, will push across it.
This poem is powerfully honest and contemplative, Cat. I realize that I only know you through your words and images, but I always see a forest full of scent and color.
Ah Sarah, your words speak true and I thank you for them. If you could hear the tormented wind outside the door, you would know how easily the inspiration came to write this today. Poetry, friends, self awareness and time all serve to construct the bridge after all. Thank you so much sweet Sarah.
A hurt that has sealed but not yet healed. It is hard to imagine that anything can grow again from a place so barren, yet someday it will.
Love these lines - "Where nothing but the wind seeps through
The vines that twist my heart askew."
Thank you K, and so it does...Not one to wallow, but it is interesting to see so starkly, one's own patterns and habits and the troubles they can brew. I find it simply fascinating to fly headlong off the diving board into and empty pool, and then sit and lick the wounds while examining the pieces of me lying all around in great detail. My own science experiment it seems. :-) Happy New Year!
Very nice, thank you.
Judith! So great to see you! I hope you have a very Happy New Year. It should be quite an interesting one.
Wonderful poem, though sad. May your next seedlings be planted in healthy, fertile places...
Healing those sealed cracks takes more than time. We often need to choose to let them go, and choose to be healed. I hope you find that healthy form of happiness!
Fabulous writing here, Cat!
:)
Hear Hear Aine, let it be so! I agree, we do have to choose to let our patterns go. It is always shocking when they rear their heads again after a long haitu. Like, huh? I totally thought you were gone! ;-0 Sigh.... Poetry, however, is an amazing healer, and a powerful tool to discovering insight.
Just beautiful, Cat, in its quiet sadness...
I think I know about these cracks of uncertainty...
Hello Vesper, thank you. Yes, they are tantalizing, those cracks. But you know what they say about curiosity and cats! :/ Perhaps the reason they are so tantalizing for folks like us is because they are so a'muse'ing. If they didn't affect anyone else, that would be fine, but they do, sigh..., so here's to walking on by those cracks with a giggle next time, and saying, 'no thank you!' and letting that inspire the muse instead.
I know those cracks too. Maybe (just maybe) those cracks we feel as our most tender weaknesses are more like our veins and capillaries, carrying our unique essense to our extremities. I won't deny the pain and confusion they cause, but suddenly I'm thinking of the tiniest embryo, a uniform sphere of cells. When it twists in and forms nerves and cirulatory systems, maybe it too weeps for the loss of its smooth existence. Its cracks become us, however. The deep mechanics of our life.
Jason, someone has construction sets and microscopes on their mind...I love your analogy though, despite the unhealthy parents that brought it into existence, perhaps the orphaned embryo can be brought in from the cold and nurtured by the warm fires of awareness, growing into a beautiful creature after all.
So beautiful, Cat! Maybe I'm still in too much of an emotional place at the moment, but this poem made me cry. It didn't make me cry in a bad way, though. Like everyone else who has commented, I love the hope found in those last two stanzas, even amid the places "Where nothing but the wind seeps through/The vines that twist my heart askew."
I love the entire poem, but those last two stanzas are extremely strong. The cracks, the scars, will eventually become the strongest part.
You are amazing. A wonderful poet and friend. Your heart and soul comes through in everything you write. Thank you so much for your kind words to me, your love and your support. This is beautiful. I'm having a good time catching up:)
Julie! I'm so glad to see you out and about given all you are going through in your family. Thank you so much my friend. I agree, and I'm looking forward to seeing the buds that your new found strength will bring to your writing. What doesn't kill us makes us stronger, yes?
so beautiful, isn't it amazing how we begin to hal our cracks through our poetry? Here's to words, and talent!
Hi Noelle! And welcome to my blog! I just took a quick look at your blog and I will be back later, probably tomorrow to take a better look. And yes indeed, poetry is an amazing healer to certain personality types that require its release like water.
Wow! Loved this poem.
:)
You really have a great vocabulary. Your choice of words, really inspires me.
Personally i liked the 3rd stanza
:)
Riversoul, thank you! That's my favorite stanza too. ;-)
Lovely poem, Catherine! Very soothing lines that flow like water.
Billy hello and thank you!
I love the forest metaphor. There is something about nature and the heart that has always struck a deep chord within me...you tell this so well, I can feel it. jorc
Jorc it is so good to see you here. When I saw your icon in followers, somehow I knew that I'd find your comment way down here at this poem. I don't write melancholy poems that much anymore, but it used to be all I wrote about. I'd write about the depths of love with my cat, but its not the Disney audience I'm approaching here on this blog. :-) Anyway, welcome and thank you. Yes, forests make a great metaphor for the heart and its various states of mood.
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