We leave under bare trees,
the crunch of frozen ground
startling the birds,
reminding us again
of the long way to go
down the old road of memory,
to the wood clad shelter
in the deep forest,
where wounds will close
in the lightless winter,
the dark a healing blanket,
the pure black night sky
our guardian and guide
as we make the journey home.
Another haunting song of cave-time, Don. Thank you. It’s beautiful, but I’m holding vigil for your spring, and mine.
Really like this part, Don:
“the pure black night sky
our guardian and guide”
That’s counter-intuitive to our conditioning: being ‘guided’ by pure blackness…
Blessings
What?! No shortcut? (wink) Thank you Don. Is it possible to compare experiences of darkness? Are any two alike? I suspect not. I will refrain from crunching the frozen ground, and just listen. It, too, is a messenger.
Don…I love these images of the dark healing……
Your poetry is a Blessing in my life, Don. Thank you…
Okay, that one gave me authentic goose bumps!
Me too. Wonderful images.
The imagery is fabulous. Very deep.
Thank you Don. I love your poems and this one is particularly evocative and timely too for something being undertaken now, in spite of bright light of desert floor and mountains. The woods are up there and the ones in my memory far away but this evokes a journey and is healing in its rest. I expect old bears would agree ! I love that fiery image too.
This is a really beautiful metaphor and image, Dad. Thank you.
Another good ‘un, Don……I love the idea and feeling of leaving the crunch of frozen ground……..twists my mind a little bit, but in a good way…….
Thank you for naming some of the gifts of darkness and honoring the quiet, transformative invisible work of this time.
Beautiful, a poem that cleanses the doors of perception. Thanks.