Water and drought can be powerful metaphors, as poet/psychologist Claudine Nash shows us this evening.
The Stream
Bend 1
You are sitting in a drought,
wounded and needful. Dry.
You offer yourself a burr
and shard of glass. When
you open your mouth, out
slips a pebble.
Bend 2
You are sitting in a drought,
parched. Needful. You think
"my poor wounded one,"
but then a coarse stream
of "shoulds" spills from
your lips. You spit out
a shell.
Bend 3
You are sitting in a drought,
dry and needful. Silent.
You slip a hand over this
tender heart of your own
and out pours a stream.
A Beautiful Rain
You
feel like a drought, yes,
but
the soil does not crack
with
your footsteps
nor
do your bare feet
kick
up dust.
Your
breath does not draw
water
from the dirt
or
cause words
to
crumble between
your
teeth.
There
is earth in you, yes,
but
not sand. Not rock,
not
desert, nothing sharp
or
arid. Your edges
breathe
and bend.
You
pulse
in
all the right
places.
There
is a pool in your
heart,
deep and sustaining.
Nothing
has withered,
no
one will drown here
or
shrivel to bone.
There
is storm
in
your veins, yes,
but
not a dry gust.
It
is a beautiful rain, and
somewhere
beneath it,
a
field of wild grass and
tulips
is spinning itself
to
life.
(Previously
published in The Poeming Pigeon: Poems from the Garden)
Bio:
Claudine Nash is an award-winning poet whose collections include The Wild Essential (Aldrich Press, forthcoming), Parts per Trillion (Aldrich Press, 2016) and The Problem with Loving Ghosts (Finishing Line Press, 2014). Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has appeared in numerous publications including Asimov’s Science Fiction, BlazeVOX, Cloudbank and Haight Ashbury Literary Journal among others. She is also a practicing psychologist. www.claudinenashpoetry.com.
Sometimes
Before It Storms
Sometimes
before
it
storms,
I
pack a satchel
of
peaches and
call
myself Beloved.
I
say such things as
“Beloved,
you need
water”
or “My beloved,
let’s
go to the sea.”
I
do not fret the mist,
it
is a beach after all
and
moisture is inherent
in
the process. Besides,
a
good peach always
pleases
me.
I
am content to let
the
waves have their way
with
my breath
until
my lungs fall
and
rise with their
rhythm.
I
become
my
own term of
endearment
then
breathe
myself
to
life.
Dear,
you
give
me such grief
for
disappearing
into
the ocean,
but
tell me,
without
this,
how
else could
I
ever offer you
any
fruit?
(Previously
published in Peacock Journal)
Bio:
Claudine Nash is an award-winning poet whose collections include The Wild Essential (Aldrich Press, forthcoming), Parts per Trillion (Aldrich Press, 2016) and The Problem with Loving Ghosts (Finishing Line Press, 2014). Her poetry has been nominated for the Pushcart Prize and has appeared in numerous publications including Asimov’s Science Fiction, BlazeVOX, Cloudbank and Haight Ashbury Literary Journal among others. She is also a practicing psychologist. www.claudinenashpoetry.com.
Miles Davis' "Amandla" makes me think of the desert: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=To4OhHDbVPM
"Catembe" is also from Amandla, a late album by Miles Davis.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c8hqk2zF2G4
"Catembe" is also from Amandla, a late album by Miles Davis.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c8hqk2zF2G4
As is "Mr. Pastorius": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=X_hdF6VEDJ4
I'll finish with a live version of his "Human Nature": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZ5E4Jo3lpU
I'll finish with a live version of his "Human Nature": https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=xZ5E4Jo3lpU
Painful and then they became a balm to my desert.
ReplyDeleteWater has its say ... & we don't know the half of it?
ReplyDeleteI say this prompted by the words I've read here ...