Poetry Friday

Halfway into the year, more or less, and also the summer solstice.  I finally understand what cultivate‘s significance was to my three words for 2013.  I’m a slow learner, but eventually I get there.  The details are unnecessary, so I’ll summarize.  I recently was able to admit that some relationships in my life weren’t what I imagined them to be.  It should be painful, I guess, but trying to keep up the appearances was actually worse.  Calling it was more liberating than anything. To paraphrase William Stafford, I was following the wrong star home.

Cultivate.  You have to clear the rocks out to keep make the soil ready. That doesn’t make the rocks bad, they just don’t belong there.

And the Three of Cups that came with the original posts — three wonderful women have slapped me awake, and I mean that in the most loving of way. You know who you are and, as they say, “Thanks, I needed that.” With your help, I’ve gotten out of this laughing and surprisingly intact.

So on this longest day of the year, the sunlight seems to be doing its job. I always plan to post the Mary Oliver poem that was written for this day, but today, this one is right.

The Journey ~ David Whyte

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

One last flight

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

small, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving
you are arriving.