Days are warming, flowers are blooming, birds are singing. The world seems a little sweeter, a little kinder in spring. It's no surprise that spirits rise as the sun's warm rays return, as bees begin to buzz and eggs appear in nests. And yet, for several reasons, this month holds a hair shirt of challenges for me. Perhaps some of the problem lies with the medicine I have to take while lilacs bloom. Anyway... instead of my own words, I've chosen to share some poems that feel right for today. I hope you will find joy and solace in them. In the first one you will notice the word "man" where I wish a more encompassing word had been used, but I did not feel comfortable changing the original. Most of my readers are women... please know that my heart is with you.
Flower in the Crannied Wall
Flower in the crannied wall,
I pluck you out of the crannies;--
I hold you here, root and all, in my hand,
Little flower -- but if I could understand
What you are, root and all, and all in all,
I should know what God and man is.
--Alfred Lord Tennyson
Small Things It usually starts taking shape
from one word
reveals itself in one smile
sometimes in the blue glint of eyeglasses
in a trampled daisy
in a splash of light on a path
in quivering carrot leaves
in a bunch of parsley
It comes from laundry hung on a balcony
from hands thrust into dough
It seeps through closed eyelids
as through the prison wall of things of objects
of faces of landscapes
It's when you slice bread
when you pour out some tea
It comes from a broom from a shopping bag
from peeling new potatoes
from a drop of blood from the prick of a needle
when making panties for a child
or sewing a button on a husband's burial shirt
It comes out of toil out of care
out of immense fatigue in the evening
out of a tear wiped away
out of a prayer broken off in mid-word by sleep
It's not from the grand
but from every tiny thing
that it grows enormous
as if Someone was building Eternity
as a swallow its nest
out of clumps of moments
--Anna Kashenska (Polish, 1920-1986)
I praise Thee while my days go on;
I love Thee while my days go on:
Through dark and dearth, through fire and frost,
With emptied arms and treasure lost,
I thank Thee while my days go on.
--Elizabeth Barrett Browning
And all shall be well and
All manner of thing shall be well.
-- T.S. Eliot
You are invited to read the offerings of the other bloggers in this group by
you read Carol's page, follow the links posted at the bottom to find others.
Blessings all!!!
