ache beneath bones
bruise beneath flesh
dove come down
dwells in wilderness
with salve for the blue
and balm for the black
bottled breath breathes
blessed hurt bleeds
goodness is fed to grasping lack
dust turned to body
hope turned to soul
naught turned to all
shard turned to whole
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Saturday, September 1, 2012
If The Thought of a New School Year Is Daunting
just ignore it for a while. Here's what to do instead:
1. Just so happen to have a nice teacher friend who is part of a kayak group and has an extra kayak she gladly loans out to friends.
2. Wait for a blue moon. Hey--you just missed this one, but your turn will come in three more years, never fear.
3. Meet up with all the kayak fanatics aforesaid teacher friend likes to hang out with at a place called Long Pond out in the middle of nowhere (where all the best places are). Eat lots of food. Enjoy the bonfire the jolly elderly man three seats down made. Be generally merry.
4. As the moon comes up, its orange glow slowly fading into silver, stare at it for a good long time through the steady stream of sparks floating up from the flames.
5. When it's as dark as it gets by moonlight, put your kayak in the water. Do it early so you have the water to yourself for a bit.
6. Paddle slowly, gliding down the moonpath toward who knows where.
7. Be quiet. Very, very quiet. Listen.
8. When the stillness is broken by the friendly murmurings of other kayakers who have finally caught up, join the babble in an undertone for a few minutes.
9. Paddle back, perhaps not quite so slowly now that most of the magic has been memorized and the quiet is not so thick as it once was.
10. Leave the water. Sit at the fire for a good 15 minutes longer. Don't talk much. Pack up and head out, bidding farewell to all of the new, strange, and wonderful people whose faces are still lit up by the fire. Drive home slowly. Clamber up the steps to your apartment. Sleep deep.
1. Just so happen to have a nice teacher friend who is part of a kayak group and has an extra kayak she gladly loans out to friends.
2. Wait for a blue moon. Hey--you just missed this one, but your turn will come in three more years, never fear.
3. Meet up with all the kayak fanatics aforesaid teacher friend likes to hang out with at a place called Long Pond out in the middle of nowhere (where all the best places are). Eat lots of food. Enjoy the bonfire the jolly elderly man three seats down made. Be generally merry.
4. As the moon comes up, its orange glow slowly fading into silver, stare at it for a good long time through the steady stream of sparks floating up from the flames.
5. When it's as dark as it gets by moonlight, put your kayak in the water. Do it early so you have the water to yourself for a bit.
6. Paddle slowly, gliding down the moonpath toward who knows where.
7. Be quiet. Very, very quiet. Listen.
8. When the stillness is broken by the friendly murmurings of other kayakers who have finally caught up, join the babble in an undertone for a few minutes.
9. Paddle back, perhaps not quite so slowly now that most of the magic has been memorized and the quiet is not so thick as it once was.
10. Leave the water. Sit at the fire for a good 15 minutes longer. Don't talk much. Pack up and head out, bidding farewell to all of the new, strange, and wonderful people whose faces are still lit up by the fire. Drive home slowly. Clamber up the steps to your apartment. Sleep deep.
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