how odd it feels this dark drear night as sheets of rain and milky fog obscure my sight while puddles swell earth waterlogged from outer bands that sweep the sky a monster with a single eye, a tempest wielding misery over a thousand miles, its bitter tears from too warm seas brings half a nation to its knees odd, i think, to taste the rain that's caused such pain to neighbors i will never meet terribly connected, we, and yet so far, so very far away
~kat
This poem was birthed in the foothills of Bramlette Mountain at dusk on the 30th of September 2022 as the outer bands of Hurricane Ian bent the pines and drenched the loam while simultaneously making landfall several states away on the South Carolina coast. We humans truly are a wrinkle, a mere blip on the vast landscape of this earth. Who are we to boast of anything at all when a raindrop can render us small?
take care, what you wish for little tree; don’t rush to blush amidst midsummer’s balmy haze, for summer comes but once a season; take your cue from elder trees, their lavish manes of sparkling emerald, chartreuse and sage, wisdom comes from weathering life’s cycles, grace and age, and autumn, with her cool dawn snap will be here soon enough you’ll see; so entertain the breeze and dance, while dusk holds back the shade of night, your dreams will keep, they’re never late, but lie in wait until the time is right…oh little tree stay green, let your sprouting limbs grow strong stretch your roots into the loam that holds the memories of home in just a blink your innocence will be laid bare, as winter’s snow becomes your hair, the night will wrap you tight and long and you will wonder where time’s gone, and think about the summers passed, while drifting off to sleep
i have been lulled by the serene, by cloud dappled cerulean, and green by the scent of honeysuckle, fresh cut blades of grass, by rose petals stretched open wide, drenched in dew by birdsong at dawn, crickets and peepers at dusk, the sun and the moon chasing each other day to night, the stars granting wishes before fading from sight…she is a beguiling mistress, nature, it’s easy to forget she has a dark side; a cycle of life, daunting for those low on the food chain… usually efficient, she sends the buzzards to remove remnants of untimely death from the forest floor usually, but not today as i happened upon a tiny shank of fresh meat, fur still clinging to exposed bone, undeniably of rabbit, nestled in pressed down clover, beautiful green, the sun shining, a soft, fragrant breeze rustling the leaves and all i could think was how grateful i was not to have witnessed the brutal carnage that happened here under the trees, my heart breaking for that poor creature, emotions flooding my soul, heart breaking for all manner of suffering as the world grows darker by the day remnants of untimely carnage left in the open forcing us to see, no longer kept hidden behind closed doors or in the shadows, life is not all rainbows and butterflies and there are not enough buzzards, what magnificent creatures they are, to sweep away the bloody mess we’ve made of things, not nearly enough
~kat
As luck would have it, it was raining when i recorded this melancholy poem… or maybe it has nothing to do with luck. 😉
she is a crone, yon maple tree her sweetness long run dry her core laid bare, exposed, she stands tall, deeply rooted having weathered many a storm, seasonal extremes, drought and deluge, through it all she greens, her leaves a celebration of resilience, audacity, of life.. a marvel, casting shade to cool and sturdy limbs for nesters, a wonder, though onlookers might surmise her useless, her scarred exterior as evidence, they underestimate her power and the fire that courses through her veins…underestimated to the peril of small minds who’ve forgotten that their shallow roots mingle with hers in the hollows
Kat’s bird-feeding station in the Bramlett Mountain foothills – Spring 2022
The silence on my page might imply that I have not been writing much this week. But in fact I have written words every day. Verses, poems that went unfinished because I was distracted by the news of the day and all manner of war…against a sovereign democratic nation…against truth…against democracy itself…against women, most achingly distracted by the war against women in my own country, and feeling powerless to stop the coming tidal wave…as heartless people in power check us off, one by one. They won’t be satisfied with one victory…subjugating women, but will surely move on to dole out equal shares of misery on minorities that make them uncomfortable…people of color, LGBTQ people, non-evangelical christian people…who else will face their wrath before their thirst for blood is quenched? And even now, still, I wonder about the children…always the children who were ripped from their parents at our southern border. I pray for them every day.
It’s a wonder I managed to write anything at all this week with this garbage swimming in my brain. So in the spirit of getting it out of my notebook and onto a proper page, this is a good time for a ReVerse. Would that I could reverse the cruelty of the humans who inhabit this planet…
I saw my first indigo bunting at the bird feeders yesterday…and a scarlet tanager…and a red breasted grosbeak. This is a first for me…three more beauties came to call, in person, just outside my window. All coexisting with the other birds, rabbits, chipmunks, squirrels and deer who happen by my little bird feeding station every day. You know, Nature has been doing this much longer than we humans…living in harmony…in balance. We could learn a thing or two. All this to say…that wee flash of brilliant blue…my little friend, the indigo bunting gives me hope.
And with that…here’s the ReVerse of this past week’s poetry that I was unable to finish…
A ReVerse Poem From a Week I Wish I Could Reverse
i don’t want to write about this there once was a town full of fools true power doesn’t need to boast we have forgotten what normal is a moment, just a moment take true power’s not up for debate imposing their will on others until remember all lives, but only if you’re white, matter, the rest are on their own disdained after their first breath, barefoot, pregnant, pregnant, pregnant, pregnant heartbeats matter, breathing not so much don’t ask, don’t tell i don’t mind an overcast day or two breathe in, breathe out, you need a break give it a rest i worry for the innocents but i know the sun is going to rise
~kat
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.
So it is easier for you to find all the parts/chapters of my ongoing fiction series, I created a new page that lists all the links. You can check it out HERE!
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