Friday, December 14, 2012

Spirit of Winter


In blue moonlight
we have danced
on the orchard floor

one and quiet,
the down of birds
swelling like fruit in the trees

my head fallen
on your chest of snow,
mind flung at the stars

our rustic limbs
reaching in perfect
invisible blackness
against a black sky

When did you go?
I am suddenly
too heavily something

studding the orchard
with these apple trees.
I need to dance
to nothing again.


With appreciation, always, to Wallace Stevens.

24 comments:

  1. Very lovely, Ruth, with a touch of Zen, I would say, in the "need to dance to nothing again."

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, George. Since you posted your comment we have learned about the horrifying and unimaginable slaughter of children in Connecticut. At this point, dancing of any kind with our loved ones is a vast privilege.

      Delete
  2. Love that "need to dance to nothing again" too.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thanks, Robert. It's one of those concepts that is understood by the heart, not the mind so much. I need poetry, for how it speaks heart language.

      Delete
  3. this is so perfect for this season. reading your words, i am transported back to a time in a childhood orchard of my own, hearing the cold air crack and feeling drenched in that blue moonlight.

    utterly lovely - thank you for an early christmas gift of the spirit of winter♡

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Amanda. Childhood winter memories are the best. And this accentuates the tragic loss in CT just before Christmas. Ohhhh ...

      Delete
  4. I saw your photo today. Yes, we are all connected and we hold the little ones collectively. I just needed to reach out and make contact, Ruth. That's all. Thank you.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Mary, thank you for telling me you saw the 'small' photo. When something so terrible unfolds, we are laid bare, with nowhere to lay our heads, hearts and hands. Touching those we love becomes essential, and I am very appreciative that you reached out to me. I feel you. xoxo

      Delete
    2. I leave early tomorrow for Trinidad and the grands. I'll hug then close as you will James. Let them know that they are loved and support is always available. Maybe we can change this one grandmother at a time so there are no more lost boys spraying their despair and anger to kill others. We must do this. Together.

      Delete
    3. Mary, oh imagine! You, like the sun, traveling across the globe shining your warm light. This makes me very hopeful. Blessings and strength for the courage to keep on being light. xoxo

      Delete
  5. We need to dance.
    So beautifully put, dear Ruthie.
    Henry's third birthday party today and I'm frightened I'll cry all the time.
    Can't stop.
    Christmas greetings to you and yours.

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Elizabeth, it will be OK to cry. It is a terribly sad time. Yet we go on with birthdays and hold our dear ones close, so so close. Christmas light to you today, my friend.

      Delete
  6. in the poem the weight arrives here,

    "When did you go?
    I am suddenly
    too heavily something"

    it is alchemy that it does but it does.

    this other weight that has descended...i keep trying to turn back the clock but who am i to do this? but if i could...

    i think of small bodies. i think of the trust of children and i damn near break in two because of how this world does not demand we make sense.

    (i have nothing to give to anyone for this tragedy but still i would give all that i have. and yet i have nothing. i know we must all feel this. then, i wonder, why is it that the world is not better than it is?)))

    xo
    erin

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. My friend, the pain is just too much. I don't know how a parent or grandparent faces such a thing when it comes. And how can it come? How is it possible?

      Is this what these "last days" will be? Torn apart in the upheavals of the planet, of the human species? How is war not anachronism? How is it possible? I don't have anything to offer either. But I do think we must acknowledge what Krishnamurti did: War begins in each of us.

      I am brokenhearted for the children, and for the being who so desperately committed the act.

      xoxo

      Delete
  7. I know this was written before "the tragedy," Ruth. I hate that the dance was so rudely interrupted. I loved your birds swelling like fruit in the trees because I have seen them there on your farm in the winter's snow. Now I see them no more. They have all flown away to weep....

    ReplyDelete
  8. Just stop by to wish you and your family a Merry Christmas, Ruth! I may not have visited your new blog as often as before, but you're on my mind as well as baby James, and the farm. Must be beautiful at Christmas time. Anyway, I miss all your photos and news about life there. No matter, all the best for a wonderful holidays to you and yours!

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Dear Arti, how good of you to come and greet me with a Christmas greeting! Thank you. May your Christmas be full of sweetness and light, my friend.

      Delete
  9. Somehow this poem is even more poignant when read today - one week after the Sandy Hook tragedy. Beautiful! Wishing you and yours a Happy Christmas..

    ReplyDelete
    Replies
    1. Thank you, Marcie! Happy Christmas to you!

      Delete

All responses are welcome.