Sunday, November 17, 2019

Star Bright








Star Bright




A little star
blown on a crinkled wind
comes to the Deadhouse.
It pushes open a window
darts a beam
between cobweb cities
and empty night.

The Dead and the
Apprentice Dead,
mummified
mute, are of course
indifferent but
the ragged prisoner,
the Almost Dead,

lifts her darkened eyes
and suddenly
begins to breathe
 in the swelling rhythm
of the living firmament.



~November 2019










Personal Note: For those who may not have heard yet, my husband passed into the solar wind on October 18th, after months of quietly enduring as much pain and indignity as a human being can suffer. I think of him as released, and of the rest of my life as totally unknowable, but at least the wild dark-eyed muse seems to be back, vague in the shadows, teasing me with her throaty whisper.








Image: Untitled, by Zladislaw Beksinksi

19 comments:

  1. First, of course, all my thoughts on your loss have been expressed directly, so I'll limit my comment here to the poetry, k?

    I adore this, especially the second half of it. You have no idea how much I miss your writing and how much I hope you will be back. This poem is full to the brim with soul, and a certain kind of mystic darkness. My little remarks can't do it justice.

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    1. I hope I will be back, too. Thank you, dear BFF, for the kind words, and all the support you have given me through the haze and maze of this time.

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  2. I am truly sorry for your loss.

    I have missed your poetry, and this one does not disappoint with your brilliant word choice and unique phrasing.

    (Teresa from Razzamadazzle)

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  3. Well, your poem leaves me feeling uplifted and hopeful. Not too many opportunities for those feelings nowadays. Love & love to you, Joy. xo

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    1. Thanks, Marian, and thanks for your words that have done much to comfort me as I've wandered through the wastelands of facebook. ;_)

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  4. I am so pleased to read you again, my friend. My thoughts are with you as you walk through these hard days. Yes, he has been released, but I know your pain must be great. I am sorry. Your poem blew through my soul like that solar wind. It is strange how grief forges some deep poems. It did, for me. I missed reading you. This one is a beauty.

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    1. Thank you Sherry. Yes, I know you have grieved and endured so much, too, and yet still you always have time for the griefs of the world. You are the best.

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  5. It is good to read you again. I am so sorry to hear about your husband. In truth he has been released but the seeing them suffer is so hard.

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  6. Expressing grief in an eloquent, complex and expressive poem ... you are an inspiration. Be well.

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  7. I am grateful for her breath. I understand that it hurts throat. But we must start (to breathe again) somewhere.

    Sending you hugs.

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    1. Thanks dear Magaly. You are so right. Stay strong and all my love and thoughts your way.

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  8. I am very sorry for your loss, Joy. I have often had you in my thoughts this year. Your poem speaks of tragedy, of loss and the courage to let go. I feel overwhelmed by the emotions and images it has stirred.

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    1. Thank you Kerry. These things easily overwhelm us, like stepping out into the sea until the waves are over your head and hit you with a thud--yet, it is in our nature that we do float. Best to you always.

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  9. So sorry for your loss too, and welcome home to you both. There are multiple way-stations here, but the one the poem is for and forwarding savors so this music, as do I. I star it bright.

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    1. Thank you, B. Forgive my long absence during which I became so isolated from all the meaningful words. I hope to find my way back somehow.

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  10. You know, I see the words "Joy" or "witch" or "hedge" (OK, not the last so much, but still) - and of course my thoughts turn to you. I've abandoned social media to march in my own purgatory (the Catholic upbringing is impossible to shake, even if the trinity and inferno no longer torch or torture me) (just the days in which we burn).

    But you must know, I have some inkling of the road you've traveled recently, and so this poem *is* hopeful - that turn in the last 4 lines inspires, and re-awakens. May your own path be with eyes wide open - and your nights filled with sleep.

    ~ m


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    1. Thanks for getting it so well,M.-- tho also, I'm sorry you get it so well--yet maybe in the long run, it all helps. Some nights I do sleep--hope you can say the same.

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"We make out of the quarrel with others, rhetoric, out of the quarrel with ourselves, poetry." ~William Butler Yeats