Friday, July 6, 2007

Enter

I like the word enter rather than the word begin because begin has always terrified and paralyzed me. Begin evokes the command of a professor at the start of an exam, and implies a linear route to a fixed end. Enter seems much more inviting, conjuring up the image of multiple doorways into a fascinating place. And of course, if you enter, rather than begin, you can always exit, re-emerging from that fascinating place, perhaps by a different door, changed by your experiences within. This is why I write.

I also write because it is the only way I know how to be part of the Eternal Conversation. "Truth," says Parker Palmer, "is an eternal conversation about things that matter, conducted with passion and discipline." So today, I'm entering the conversation by joining in with Poetry Friday.

Jules, over at Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast, asked about the healing power of art. This is my reply. Perhaps I should have saved it for a more appropriate month. But that is the thing about entering. You use the door that is open before you.



The Bones of January


I love the plainness of January

when I have taken down my Christmas


finery, and in the shock

of my home stripped bare, I see


the corners of my rooms

again. And outside, all is


stark, gray, glorious

with no false beauty to help me


pretend that I am satisfied.


In January, I kneel beside my children’s

sleeping faces, and let them break

the leafless branches

that cage my chest.


And outside, all is

undone. Roots rend

the earth like bones.


How did this happen?

That all should be taken


down–

and that love,

love should be plain


as January?


---Sara Lewis Holmes


Poetry Friday Roundup is at Farm School today.

11 comments:

  1. Oh my! It's your blog! Wow. How exciting!

    And oh my, what a beautiful poem. Thank you for sharing it. I'm going to have to sit down with that later -- for a bit longer -- because it's not quiet enough where I am, and just reading it one time slayed me, even amidst all the noise. So gorgeous. Thanks for sharing (and for replying to my post) . . .

    I am so excited. I'm going to read this blog every dang day -- or as often as you post, that is (and to be mentioned in your inaugural post is so flattering).

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  2. Sara, Sara, Sara--you have poetry like that in you? Wow!

    So very happy to see you entering the blogosphere. Welcome. We have snacks at 11:00, and naps at 1:00.

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  3. Dropping in via Jules & Eisha:

    Ohhh.
    "the leafless branches that cage my chest."
    So beautiful, and isn't January the best time of the year for unadorned poetry. This is amazing.

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  4. I LOVE THAT LINE, TOO, TadMack (I'm yelling that in enthusiasm).

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  5. Jules, Robin, TadMack: Thank you all for stopping by. I have no idea what will happen from here on out, but I'll try to be worthy.

    Just please, please tell me if I get spinach between my teeth or anything.

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  6. Girl, when you write like that, your teeth can be MADE OUT OF SPINACH and nobody will care! Seriously, Sarah, that poem is lovely.

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  7. I forgot to say: love that photo! You're so genic.

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  8. Susan T. (again)7/6/07, 10:48 PM

    Oops. I meant *Sara*. My mom and niece are Sarahs with hs, and I must be used to writing it that way. My apologies.

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  9. Hey! Welcome to the blogosphere! Nice to have somewhere to visit you properly.

    And I agree - that's a lovely poem. I had no idea you could write like that.

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  10. What a wonderful poem. I am so glad you started blogging!

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  11. This is going straight into my commonplace book.

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