Faraway is Close presents:
Poems from Here, There
idhar udhar aquí allí
the hope is share poems from me, with friends, here and there,
in different languages, from porches balconies in this surreal pandemic time.
Share your own journey - join our free (virtual) community creativity circles,
every Tuesday at 10 am Mountain Standard Time.
SELECTIONS FROM OUR (VIRTUAL) CREATIVITY COMMUNITY CIRCLE,
EVERY TUESDAY AT 10 AM MOUNTAIN STANDARD TIME. THE NEXT ONE IS MAY 5.
READ MORE. JOIN THE CIRCLE...
I believe a Dreamer Dreamed. From that Dream poured stars and galaxies,
worlds of infinite possibility and the potential for life.
Life simple and small or grand and complex.
That which seeks only its next meal, and that which dreams its own Dreams.
~ J-D Engle
On a morning, sharp with winter, fresh with cold, I rise and walk on mesa paths,
red with longing-mine, red with loving-mine.
In slivers of air, here and there, smells of sage come and go. But their memory always lingers.
Bluejays dart through juniper without even a hello. But ravens stop and chat.
From the tops of topmost branches, they say: one day, you’ll understand our conversation.
And it maddens me. By which I mean, it gladdens me beyond belief. Or rather, into it.
For I do believe.
I believe in the trinity of piñon, sage and juniper.
I believe in the holy ghosts that live in yellow plains, drained of green but not of life.
I believe in lavas that bind mesas so they do not yield, not easily, not yet.
I believe in rocks that I know by name but that don’t know me, not now, not yet.
(One day, they will.)
I believe in birdsong that persists through winter and heartsong that keeps the land beating through droughts, rains, snows, love, loss, betrayal.
I believe in immenseness, space and a spirit I have found again, by another name,
in another guise.
I believe. Finally, I believe.
~ Shebana Coelho (Creed first appeared on the On Being Blog)