Friday, March 5, 2010

soft like the moon

perhaps it is because
i am an august birth
that i feel compelled
to look for
summer's faded remnants -

to find evidence
that the world i was born into
is somehow contained
in these
dark fingertip trees
scratching at
empty pale blue skies.

i feel real joy
in the splashes
of moss on their trunks
and the rain-rinsed
blue of lichen
on the rocks at their base.

it's so much like
the wish
i feel in the deepest way
at times
to once again feel
my father's presence
in this world.

i slow down.
i stop.
i think
and feel
here in me
around me.

like the moon
in the mid-winter twilight.


Dan Gurney said...

Again, a skillful combining of photograph, words, and sentiment. This post calls to mind the post you did last summer when you sensed your father's presence on a bicycle ride.

Your father is with you, in you.

You've succeeded in photographing the moon, something that I've found hard to do, and captured the soft feelings it prompted. Thank you, steven.

Lorenzo said...

Slow down, stop, think and feel. What simple instructions to magic. You transmit these moments so well that you even evoke his (or is it His?) presence in all of us. Thanks.

Titus said...

What beautiful words and images steven. I love
like the moon"...

Pauline said...

poignant, hopeful, beautiful

steven said...

hey dan - good memory! through his beliefs and knowledge as a buddhist i know that the spirit that inhabited my father's body has reincarnated - it's a sense of him that i'm aware of. sometimes it's there very strongly and i'm unable to articulate why or even how i know but there it is! thanks for your thoughtful comment. steven

steven said...

well lorenzo in my own understanding it's both. thankyou for this thoughtful comment. have a peaceful day. steven

steven said...

thankyou very much titus - i'm pleased that you enjoyed your visit! steven

steven said...

pauline - thankyou. steven

Elisabeth said...

Seeing the moon in daylight my two year old grandson said to his mother, 'Mama ask the moon to sit down.' He did not like to see the moon in the daylight sky.

A lovely image and equally lovely words, Steven. Thanks.

Reya Mellicker said...

You are so healthy minded. xx

Golden West said...

You've expressed something beautifully that is often difficult to put into words.

Anna Lefler said...

This is just beautiful.

I love visiting your blog.

:-D Anna

ellen abbott said...

I officially pronounce you...Poet.

Joanna said...

What a lovely poem Steven! You have such a gift with words and images. Thank you for sharing it with us.

Linda Sue said...

Oh Steven- there you go again- this is sweet and I totally get it with the tree thing. So many metaphorical qualities, a tree can be everything.Can't wait until you experience a madrona- You will want to marry it!

Jenny Stevning said... lovely...

steven said...

elsiabeth i love the way children know the world. part of growing older is allowing the filters we've acquired to protect us from the world to fall aside because we really don't need them. that allows us to see the world more truthfully - in the way children do. steven

steven said...

reya - i'd love for you to unpack that sometime. thankyou. steven

steven said...

thanks golden west - my dad was not a soft man. but he became a gentle man - able to express his softness and i am deeply grateful for that. steven

steven said...

anna lefler - i love the glasses and moustache!!! thanks so much for visiting and i'm glad it's a good place for you. steven

steven said...

ellen - thanks. i'm still working at that. steven

steven said...

thank you joanna!!! steven

steven said...

linda sue - a madrona - well yes i remember the pictures and it's like a body wrapped up in itself. i think that when we marry people that's what they are. it's the unpacking that's the challenge!! steven

steven said...

hey jenny stevning - i'm glad that you found it as lovely as i. steven

willow said...

It's fascinating how the season of our birth influences our lives. Beautiful words, Steven. Have a super weekend, my friend.

Meri said...

Such a mysterious thing, the imprints our loved ones leave on our souls and our psyches. When I was in Egypt, I was acutely aware of how I carried my female lineage along with me in my DNA, as if I was taking them with me to see the ancient wonders.