prayer

[abby]

monastery.jpg

I drove to the monastery far out of town,
down thirteen miles of dirt road,
where I gave the two-fingered wave
particular to roads such as this
to the few cars I passed
going the other way.
I went straight to the seat
someone built into a cottonwood,
and there I saw the sun on the river
shivering like stars at night.
I came here hoping to run into you,
though I know I carry you with me
and you make your home everywhere.
I woke up this morning
a moment after my fear.
I come here when I am desperate, as you know.
All the way, again and again, I imagined
bringing my friend to this place
so that I may have a witness in my praying.
And, again and again, I return:
I return to you
the way the mind returns, again and again,
in meditation.
It is so quiet that I can hear
the ice on the edge of the river melting-
I was sure it was the sound of wings
or an aimless cow in the water.
Though the earth goes about its business
all around me
I cannot follow suit;
there is deceit in my heart every minute
and on its heels, always, the brief mercy
of return.
I feel your breath whispering in my ear-
I can't understand the words
for the static I bring to the moment.
This is what it means
to be at home in the world,
this dissatisfaction,
this longing for you.

true home.jpg

christ in the desert.jpg

[lizzytysh]

Such a beautiful place to sit as well as to pray, Abby.

This verse is so gently graphic and totally lovely:

It is so quiet that I can hear
the ice on the edge of the river melting-
I was sure it was the sound of wings
or an aimless cow in the water.
Though the earth goes about its business
all around me

I love it and enjoyed your poem very much.
Gorgeous, majestic scenery.
And about that two-fingered wave...

[Cate]

I love when you post something new here Abby.

This is such a beautiful image!

[imaginary friend]

It's beautiful Abby.

It took me back in memory to the sweet and quiet joy to be found when one is alone with a landscape, forest or beach.

You found it.

[lazariuk]

very inspiring

[abby]

What a bunch of pals you three are

[abby]

I don't expect anyone to respond to this- it's for the record, really. I tend to work on things forever before sharing them but this time I shared what I wrote the same day I wrote it. Now, a few drafts later:

I woke up this morning a moment after my fear
and drove to the monastery far out of town,
down thirteen miles of dirt road where I gave
the two-fingered wave particular to roads such as this
to the few cars going the other direction.

I went straight to the seat someone built into a cottonwood,
and there I saw the sun on the river shivering like the stars at night.
I came out here hoping to run into you
though I know I carry you with me
and you make your home everywhere.

All day, again and again, I imagined
bringing my friend to this place
so that I may have a witness in my praying.

It is so quiet I can hear the ice on the edge of the river melting-
I was sure it was the sound of wings
or an aimless cow in the water.

Though the earth goes about its business all around me
I cannot follow suit;
there is deceit in my heart every minute,
and on its heels, always, the brief mercy of return.

I can feel your breath whispering in my ear
but I can't make out the words
for the static I bring to the moment.
This is what it means to be at home in the world,
this dissatisfaction, this longing for you.

[Diane]

Abby what a beautiful poem. I recognise that place!

You changed 'imagined' to 'imaged'. If it's not a typo, I like that - the idea of making pictures (internal and also photos), as well as words for the lost love, or god.

[abby]

Thank you, Diane... it was a typo, and it totally pains me.

I love that other people know the place, but not too many : )

[sleep]

I love this, abby!

[Gullivor]

Again... Beautiful, Abby.

I read this last week. It brought back memories that shouldn't be memories.
I went kayaking yeasterday on an out of the way creek. I thanked God that I am alive.

Thank you for the reminder Abby.
Thank you!

[ragsandbones]

beautiful

[abby]

may.jpg

This tree is my true home. Spring's here.

[Cate]

Ohhh yes, s/he looks very welcoming with that soft green of new leaves.
It looks like you would feel like you were sitting in the tree not just with the tree.

[abby]

These are two photos I took yesterday of my true home in the summer. The second is the view from the seat in the cottonwood.

7.25.13.jpg

pretend_you're_here.jpg