Saturday, July 25, 2009

A New Poem

For those of you who have read my work here, you know that I also struggle with writing poetry as well. This summer an acquaintance died by her own hand, and I wrote this poem to help me figure out my thoughts about it all.

As always,I welcome feedback. It is very much a work in progress. Unfortunately, I can find no way to keep the spacing and formatting, no matter how much I tweak it. But at least you can read the words.

____________________________________

The Inchworm and the Heron

On my son’s shoulder sat the inchworm,
Having hitched a ride into the sanctuary.
The eulogy progressed.
I gently coaxed it
Onto a Torah cover,
To bide its time
Until I could help it
Return to its world.

It measured the cover’s perimeter—
Up down, up down—
At the corner it stretched out
Sightlessly reaching
seeking
striving
A life carefully measured,
Centered on words of wisdom
Trying to find connection
purpose
community

When we went to leave
It had vanished, lost to view.

At the cemetery we mourners
unmoored
unconnected
unsure,
Struggled to strengthen our earthly ties,
Reaching out, looking helplessly,
For what had been lost

Over our heads a heron
Crossed the sky
Effortlessly floating
gliding
drifting

Might rootlessness be desirable?
Might the ceasing of striving be purposeful?

Above the confines of earth
the heron soared.


(c) Lydia A. Schultz 2009

1 comment:

Gramma Solo said...

I found and like these two connections:

It measured the cover’s perimeter—
Up down, up down—
At the corner it stretched out
Sightlessly reaching
seeking
striving
A life carefully measured,

to

Struggled to strengthen our earthly ties,
Reaching out, looking helplessly,
For what had been lost

I was wondering if you could maybe tie the pattern of the first to the second before the hopefulness even in loss in the last section of the heron's effortless yet rootless soaring above the earth.

It's a beautiful vision of letting go. Thanks for sharing.

My Grandmother Agnes