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| Women with Birch, Hedwig Scherrer (1878–1940) |
Saying “I am the earth and the earth is me” cracks me up.
Literally. I cannot hold my spine up and let it hold me
over my legs, but curve into the softest easy chair
and lift my feet out of alignment with root and crown.
I am not even a walking tree relative.
I wonder if I could get better with practice?
I’ll say “I’m opening to consider my place in you, Earth.
Are you content to contain me? Would you, someday,
allow me to encompass you too?” Still, laughing, I wonder
if I could begin to attach, toe to earth, before I even try
to open my heart wide. It is earth who contains multitudes,
despite Whitman’s observation. What will I need?
A lifetime of experience? A candle? A pen? A poem?
Maybe leave props aside, and arrive empty-handed to the meeting.
“May I embrace and touch you, earth, in a simpler greeting?”
My blog poems are rough drafts.
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© 2021 Susan L. Chast
As a woman on the verge of eighty, I sit (upright) at my desk (no props) grinning broadly wondering if it's just us .... are there others?
ReplyDeleteThis is truly wonderful, my friend.......my dilemma is I need a comfy couch but only have room for a small loveseat so when I want to watch a movie I have to curl myself up like a pretzel. One foot needs to be always ready to stop my slide towards the floor at intervals. I love the idea of attaching, toe to earth, before opening your heart wide.......
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