Hung, like Odin on the tree, or Inanna, naked, hooked,
and the sanguine fool, upside down, still smiling, patient,
waiting for the healing, which must and will come;
not to be resisted, but embraced; the lesson salient,
so is the work commenced and held in place that wholeness
may be found, created, birthed; the Soul made radiant.
The archetypes abound, reveal the lessons that we need,
as image, sense, dream and feelings so profound,
and still we fight relentless, holding onto what has been;
refusing to give way, relinquish long-dead ground,
where rotting corpses lie across synaptic, hidden waste
and death demands it's price, slow feeds the ravening hound.
It's only in surrender that the work is ever fully done,
for fate does guide who will, and drags regardless, all the rest,
knowing that the call to being is the greatest, vital force;
life released, an arrow across time from birth to end,
for firm and feathered flight, eternity does surely measure,
then upon the cross of days, deep nails of night, the ego bends.
http://dversepoets.com/
From the sacred to the mundane:
Tree of Life in Malawi
Trees sit in silence, heads removed, mere stumps
waiting for the next breath when life will bring
forth leaves; waiting for the next time, the machete
will come; waiting always to be reduced, cut down,
brought low because without such hacking and
removing, there is no charcoal, there is no fire,
there is no warm food, there is no life for the
people and so, in Malawi, forests can disappear,
steadily, singularly, sorrowfully, as branches are
removed, often in stealth, from any tree which is
at hand and in the sacrifice, the steady harvesting
of the life contained within the offered wood, there
is some hope, some future, in a land where only
wood can bring the nsima to the boil, that fruit
of maize on which so many live and only can
survive. In Africa the tree can mean the difference
between life and death and that is why only some
part of the tree will die, leaving enough life for it
to regrow, so that children will not starve and adults
have the strength to carry on, until, there are no
trees left to turn into the black gold which fuels fire.
and the sanguine fool, upside down, still smiling, patient,
waiting for the healing, which must and will come;
not to be resisted, but embraced; the lesson salient,
so is the work commenced and held in place that wholeness
may be found, created, birthed; the Soul made radiant.
The archetypes abound, reveal the lessons that we need,
as image, sense, dream and feelings so profound,
and still we fight relentless, holding onto what has been;
refusing to give way, relinquish long-dead ground,
where rotting corpses lie across synaptic, hidden waste
and death demands it's price, slow feeds the ravening hound.
It's only in surrender that the work is ever fully done,
for fate does guide who will, and drags regardless, all the rest,
knowing that the call to being is the greatest, vital force;
life released, an arrow across time from birth to end,
for firm and feathered flight, eternity does surely measure,
then upon the cross of days, deep nails of night, the ego bends.
http://dversepoets.com/
From the sacred to the mundane:
Tree of Life in Malawi
Trees sit in silence, heads removed, mere stumps
waiting for the next breath when life will bring
forth leaves; waiting for the next time, the machete
will come; waiting always to be reduced, cut down,
brought low because without such hacking and
removing, there is no charcoal, there is no fire,
there is no warm food, there is no life for the
people and so, in Malawi, forests can disappear,
steadily, singularly, sorrowfully, as branches are
removed, often in stealth, from any tree which is
at hand and in the sacrifice, the steady harvesting
of the life contained within the offered wood, there
is some hope, some future, in a land where only
wood can bring the nsima to the boil, that fruit
of maize on which so many live and only can
survive. In Africa the tree can mean the difference
between life and death and that is why only some
part of the tree will die, leaving enough life for it
to regrow, so that children will not starve and adults
have the strength to carry on, until, there are no
trees left to turn into the black gold which fuels fire.
Destiny will do what it wants and we just have to do our : Karma" Nice write.
ReplyDeleteWell, we create destiny as we make this world manifest through our thoughts and actions I believe.
DeleteHi Roslyn Hope you are well-great poem with thought provoking concepts well defined and expressed-creating vivid imagery
ReplyDeleteThanks Anjum, yes, really good.
DeleteI really liked the way you tell about the trees of Malawi.. food and shelter and fuel .. a very delicate balance
ReplyDeletethe fact it is so good at the mundane contributes to make it sacred.
ReplyDeleteA salient point yes.
DeleteThanks Bjorn.
ReplyDeletethe close is quite chilling....nice thoughts
ReplyDelete