Heron croaked taking flight,
prehistoric wings and angular form
reminders of another time.
Like a hole in the clouds
or stirring of the sea,
I am part wind, part forest,
part native to the water.
I’ll tell you the story
as I remember
however incomplete.
This is your home,
body and blood,
yet in the helix
of your innermost,
star seeds woven in light
brighter than morning.
You won’t figure it out
by unwrinkling your paper self
to somehow read the eternal.
You’ve got to live it,
beyond the pastures you were fenced in
and ride on into the wastes.
It’s drier out here and stony ground
but in the moment you cross the line
you’ll breathe the clean air you were born for
and your story will make perfect sense.
Reading of “Hole in the Clouds” with music from Sister Drum by Dadawa
Gorgeous, Don. This certainly has been my experience, and I’m deeply grateful for it. All of it, because my story makes perfect sense to me.
Whenever I am tempted to try and figure things out my head starts to hurt. Revelation is the only way to go.
Don, your poetry has crossed a threshold revealing your awareness and oneness with nature, the infinite, and the nameless. You are living it. So very beautiful.
Don, this is especially poignant today as I am mourning the loss of Matt Kahl, one of the veterans in our film. The imagery of a “hole in the clouds” is so apt and, although I don’t think you meant it this way, this line applies to his death:
…” the moment you cross the line
you’ll breathe the clean air you were born for
and your story will make perfect sense.”
Thank you for so consistently offering your gifts to the world.
Don…I agree. Your poetry has now crossed into new territory, the territory of infinite wonder and joy….and yes, you have always been there!(smile) Thanks for your consistently rich offerings.
I love this poem because it enters the realm of what Robert By called “leaping poetry,” his “testament to the singular importance of the artistic leap that bridges the gap between conscious and unconscious thought in any great work of art”; the process that Bly refers to as “riding on dragons.” My grammatical ear wanted “It’s drier out here and stony ground,” to maintain parallelism with “It’s drier out here with stonier ground.” Just my two bits worth, and kudos for that series of leaping images.
Yes, thank you. I love all this. This line:
“You won’t figure it out
by unwrinkling your paper self
to somehow read the eternal.”
spoke to me today as I’ve realized, at 61 that I am more nostalgia-focused than I want to be. For instance, most of the music I play when I perform is 50 years old. (Neil Young, etc). Instead of unwrinkling the paper, I want to be present to current music and art and expression, and move forward. (I will still singing Helpless and After the Goldrush because, c’mon, I’m not crazy…)
Don, this is strong and intense. Thanks.
Don, I love this powerful expression. Thank You ! Yes, you’ll breathe the clean air you were born for when you live it. And your story will make perfect sense. So beautiful Don. Can’t be much clearer than that!
This poem gave me chills… You are in the very heart of being as evidenced by these words strung so perfectly upon the cords of your perception
It is my story too and I join you in that knowing………….yes, clean air!
Don, I love the revealing of truth contained in this poem. It certainly resonates with my experience. Blessings.