The crone, wrinkled and gnarled,
with her long stringy hair,
is stirring in the forest
in her nest of leaves.
Rabbits and wolf cubs perk their ears
and the bear is arrested mid-swoop,
while fishing in the river.
She is sounding the drum,
its reverberating thrum
calling the Council of All Beings
to the river's edge.
Her drumbeat is calling me
out of the grey town.
It beckons me deep
into the forest's heart,
where all is green, and silent
and sacred.
I enter the primeval sepulchre
as the world goes still
and falls away.
The way forward is written
somewhere
within that stillness.
I need but listen closely,
to find my way.
A poem from 2013, picked at random for sharing with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United, where you will find fine reading to accompany your coffee of a Sunday morning.
nicely written Sherry...
ReplyDeleteAh, we all have to find our way forward...somehow. Interesting to reflect that this poem was written in 2013, Sherry. You have made your way forward quite well since that time, Sherry! Smiles.
ReplyDeleteAh yes, I believe I remember this one. I love it! As Mary suggests, you have answered your call – and of course it is one we need to keep answering, in various ways.
ReplyDeleteOne just has to listen, indeed... to everything
ReplyDeleteThe way forward is written
ReplyDeletesomewhere within that stillness.
The call from the stillness of the jungle is often missed by many!
Hank
Council of All Beings... that's delightful...it is the only way forward!
ReplyDeleteIf only one nation could set the example others might follow, otherwise we may have to do it on our own. Perhaps we could start with a referendum in each country.
ReplyDeleteI enjoyed your poem about the crone with stringy hair, Sherry, a close-up of forest life. I love that the crone sleeps in a nest of leaves and I agree:
ReplyDelete'The way forward is written
somewhere
within that stillness'.
Indeed, and all we need to do is open our hearts and listen.. ❤️
ReplyDeleteThe drumbeat is powerful, but it demands a price of stillness to hear it's rhythm.I consider that a bargain.
ReplyDeleteTo listen, yes to listen
ReplyDeleteHappy Sunday to you Sherry
much love...
A beautiful read...listening is key. Every word was filled with meaning - thank you for sharing!
ReplyDeleteYou have made your way forward, Sherry. Beautiful reflection.
ReplyDeleteah, to listen to the drumbeats of our hearts..
ReplyDeleteI love this section:
ReplyDelete"I enter the primeval sepulchre
as the world goes still
and falls away.
The way forward is written
somewhere
within that stillness."
A welcome call (especially for an afternoon of reading) to be still and listen. :)
ReplyDeleteYou transported me to themail forest with this. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteThose closing lines say it all, don't they! Wonderful!
ReplyDeleteYou drawn the scene so WONDER fully and imbued it with magic. This is really special!
ReplyDeleteI love this. I can hear the drum beats slowly and rhythemically beating, steadily leading our feet. It is interesting you refer to the green space as "primeval sepulcher". I always refer to it as the "cathedral". Both are holy spaces.
ReplyDeleteDear Sherry, you have found the way, the past is an enlightening forest we travel through.
ReplyDeleteWell written.
ZQ
This reminds me of a drumming chorus of women I was in one time. Very spiritual and awe inspiring. What a wonderful memory you conjured with this poem. Thank you!
ReplyDeleteListen coz the sound & the music never dies.
ReplyDeleteThe path is ahead and listening may reveal the surprise :)