Don’t Stop Me If You’ve Heard This Before
the writer of Ecclesiastes knew
I am learning too
there is nothing new under the sun
a million graduates graced the stage
diplomas and dreams clenched in fists of tan hands
a million mothers have sat with pride
remembering everything that ever was
nothing is not remembered, nothing is allowed forgetting
you may say I have heard this before
this retelling, it’s too familiar to wake me up, make me come alive
everything about this moment
the other ones too
though told before
burst forth with new birth
and old is new, anew
don’t stop me if you’ve heard this before
because I will not stop talking
a million mothers may sit with pride
but there is only one me
and there is only one us
repetition is the echo, the bold, the exclamation point
everything bears repeating
the chorus and refrain sing me home
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Sharing a bit of poetry which I recorded on Sound Cloud many moons ago.
As I head off on a brief journey up into the woods and hills, I am anticipating the time I will spend with my mother. Dementia has hijacked so much and yet there is still joy. There is still beauty.
And poetry remains. To be excavated, dusted off, writen, savored and read.
We will read hers. We will read Milne.
We will crawl into the waiting arms of poetry. A refuge in the storm. A card catalog of now and then.
You found me. Perhaps I found you. We found each other. We are now sojourners for a journey of days and weeks and seasons, through the calendar of 2016. While the earth spins and turns, we will look for the poetry. Together.
We missed the early days. We had not found each other yet when January began her spartan dance, slow and waltzing. Fresh with hope. So we are shy a full deck of 365. But we press on in the remaining. Linked. Arms hooked. You are an encourager of delight, a finder of the extraordinary and a lover of whimsy.
You are not the Pollyanna that some may think. You are not the eternal optimist. The wearer of rose-colored glasses. You are green with new birth. Effervescent with joy in the face of discovery. Yes, you are life-giving and eager to delight in the best. Often the simple.
The “m” sits on the edge of pursed lips, determined and brave and pushes off like a swimmer doing the butterfly. A graceful lunge. Into the realm of wonder and possibility. A sea of mystery and marvel. High tides, low tides. Ebbing and flowing. Always tossing up the treasures to be collected on the edges of our walk.
So there you are. Light in the dark. Warmth in the cold. You shade and color the nuances of life with glorious richness. With exquisite simplicity. Elegance in the simple. You are regal as a peasant in her everyday-ness. You are riches in the rags. Hope in despair. Light in the shadows.
Marvelous, you are a mindset. A lens. A capturer of life’s best and rarest. A treasure seeker. A seeker of intrigue.
Thank you for choosing me. Here’s to a year of marveling together. At all the mystery. Through the pain. Into the dark days. Around the deep ditches and past the hurdles of sorrow. Over, under, around.
Here’s to uncovering the marvelous. For you and for me. In the everyday. In every day. In Him and by Him. Glory be to the Creator of the marvelous.
It was getting a little noisy for me on social media. I am still there, on twitter, instagram and Facebook. And I am on Tumblr and Pinterest too. And yes, I am here on my blog. My writing home. Thank you again for being here with me, always. But I have craved a quieter space. And I am creating one for us. An email letter from me to you, in your inbox, for subscribers who are interested in more poetry, photography, prose, essays and some updates on my journey into working toward my first published book. Don’t worry you haven’t missed much.
It is still early and there is no book. And the newsletter, it is not about that. But I may share a little of the high points of that journey. Dead end or success. I am excited to share with you that I am working behind the scenes on a book proposal. So there is that project. Along with this one.
A Quiet Place For Words. I hope you enjoy what you find there. (please feel free to subscribe, it is free. And then unsubscribe if you find it is not for you. I know how closely I guard my own email inbox. I get it. I understand.)
Click the link below to subscribe to my Tiny Letter. A once weekly, or less frequent, letter to be delivered to your inbox. Quietly. I promise not to make a lot of noise.
This little labor of love will be sent to subscribers next week. I hope you will join me.
Elizabeth W Marshall – a quiet place for words