Well...I waited a few weeks to have enough poems to do a proper ReVerse. I am not surprised at the twists and turns of each line and the ultimate hopeful tone.
The truth is, things are pretty chaotic right now with the pandemic raging out of control and our current President acting badly, lying, stirring his sycophants into rage and denial of reality. But oh...reality! It holds a spark of hope.
In the not too distant future we have a chance to get things right. We have a chance to move past the nightmare of the last few years and dare I say it...to dream again. Maybe even realize a few of those dreams...justice, equality, opportunity for all, restoration for our planet, mended relationships with our allies, accountability for those with hostile intentions, foreign and domestic. Not to mention the cracks in the glass ceiling more pronounced than ever...a woman vice-president for American girls, and especially girls of color to aspire to. The future holds a lot of promise and could be a reality if we nurture it and tend it. If we believe.
The last poem I wrote before today was inspired by a Celtic tradition, “telling the bees”, practiced by bee-keepers over the ages. It is customary to keep the bees in the loop especially in the wake of important news...births, deaths, marriage, and in this case, in my case the results of our recent election and the coming inauguration of our new “bee-keeper”. This is very important news indeed for the bees to know. Bees are a sensitive lot, messengers between us the the spiritual realm. The slightest thing can upset them, causing them to flee the hive, stop producing honey or worse, perish. Telling the bees keeps things in balance and sets the stage for good fortune.
I was sitting outside reading and rereading this poem aloud tweaking it here and there. To my surprise a honey bee showed up and landed on my hand. And stupid me...reflexively I shooed it away until I came to my senses and realized what I had just done. I called out to that little bee, and apologized for my rudeness and would you believe, it came back alighted on my hand once more. For a few seconds we shared a moment, the bee and me. It was magical. And believe me...it is true. Cross my heart, I’m not making this up.
Now I don’t know if you believe in this sort of thing, but I’m going to take that moment as a sign that my little friend heard me. That good fortune is on its way. And because of that I am feeling more hopeful than I have in quite a long while.
Here’s to a new week. To new beginnings. To life and health. To truth and compassion. To healing and justice. Namasté.
Sunday’s ReVerse - 15 November 2020
their slow sad voices repeating
it’s the trees
clouds drench the hollow
we have a voice in what’s at stake
the cold air is thin
but it will all be over soon
we can cling to the promise of spring
the dawn is coming
we trust our higher angels
to mend our brokenness, to reach
to fill our honey jars of clay
A ReVerse poem (a practice I started many years ago) is a summary poem with a single line lifted from each entry of a collection of work over a particular timeframe and re-penned in chronological order as a new poem. Unlike a collaborative poem, the ReVerse features the words of one writer, providing a glimpse into their thoughts over time. I use it as a review of the previous week (or in this case a review from several weeks’ poems).
November 15, 2020