my morning face, ever hopeful.
Vision obscured, I peer through cloudy glass,
towards the brighter sky.
Beyond the meadow, I can see
the ghostly shapes of ancient horses,
shape-shifting among the trees.
The shaman sits on a fencepost,
smiling, wise and kind,
with an owl perched on his shoulder.
He will not point the way,
for I must find it for myself.
But he gives me a blessing
for the journey,
as the road is steep,
rock-strewn,
and he knows there will be storms.
To the south lies treasure, precious stone,
inukshuks to point the way
for lonely travelers.
Their arms point west, always west,
where my spirit flies, up over the mountains,
along the familiar highway
that leads me forever home.
A row of prisms cast rainbows, for beauty,
refract the light, for brightness
and clear-seeing.
Towards sunset lies the illumined path,
following footsteps I trod before,
called ever forward
by the unceasing song of the sea,
siren, lover, clarion call,
to fly my spirit home.
I heft my kit bag full of memories,
tuck in a soupcon of wonder,
and a song to merry me along,
towards my nest at the edge of the world.
North is an inner compass, a knowing that,
whatever the direction I am headed,
however long or short the journey,
I am my own
True North.
This poem arrived in 2015, when I lived at the farm. It was created thanks to an exercise by Elizabeth, to turn in all the directions, make notes on what I saw and turn it into a poem. Thanks, Elizabeth! Sharing it with the Poetry Pantry at Poets United.
A lovely journey - and I like the mythological influence and suggestion of the 4 directions too .... adds a wonderful layer to the words, especially since you're (west) coastal ... :)
ReplyDeleteand I really liked this part:
I heft my kit bag full of memories,
tuck in a soupcon of wonder,
and a song to merry me along,
towards my nest at the edge of the world.
sounds like the perfect accompaniments/necessities in a kit bag for sure!
I am glad you have reposted this poem, Sherry. There is much to think about here. I think each of us can learn to look in all directions. There are things that can be learned.
ReplyDeleteA wonderful homecoming poem, literally and metaphorically. And thank you for sharing the exercise; sounds like a good one, which I might try.
ReplyDeleteA spiritual poem, Sherry, I love the
ReplyDelete'...ghostly shapes of ancient horses,
shape-shifting among the trees'
and
'Towards sunset lies the illumined path,
following footsteps I trod before,
called ever forward
by the unceasing song of the sea'.
I like the idea of being blessed for the journey, but not specifically guided as we walk. In the walking, the journey unfolds, and the blessing sustains us.
ReplyDeleteGorgeous write, Sherry!❤️ Love this especially;
ReplyDelete"Towards sunset lies the illumined path,
following footsteps I trod before,
called ever forward
by the unceasing song of the sea,
siren, lover, clarion call,
to fly my spirit home."❤️
What a cool framework for a poem, calling the the four directions. Love the conclusion too.
ReplyDeleteI love so much how you find a meaning in all directions, can we ever find the true north without seeing also things that's gone south?
ReplyDelete"But he gives me a blessing
ReplyDeletefor the journey"
Absolutely perfect for the adventure of life
Happy you dropped by my sumie Sunday today Sherrie
Much🎶🖤🎶love
such a creative compass poem - you have followed your star in words and spirit
ReplyDelete"I heft my kit bag full of memories,
tuck in a soupcon of wonder,"
Wonderful lines!
I am my own true North...I love that. So much to love in this poem of directions. My star always points due South. But I do like this: I heft my kit bag full of memories, tuck in a soupcon of wonder". Wow. That is incredible.
ReplyDeleteSherry - The Shaman will not point the way for we must make the journey ourselves on the road to discovery. I find it interesting that we both are sharing a journey today.
ReplyDeleteThis has a great sense of clarity, a journey at once overseen and taken as it comes.
ReplyDeleteThank you for taking me on this lovely - truly mesmerizing - journey, Sherry. A beautifully penned spiritual odyssey.
ReplyDeletei have to look up 'inukshuks'. :)
ReplyDeleteit must be a lovely exercise, for such a beautiful poem comes out of it.
Which ever direction we take we must remain the same person, kind, loving, caring without bias. It is always a delight and wonder to discover ancient signs of the past. There is so much aboriginal art in caves and rocks in Australia telling stories of so many years ago.
ReplyDeleteLove it... North is an inner compass, a knowing that,
ReplyDeletewhatever the direction I am headed,
however long or short the journey,
I am my own
True North.
I have tried already two times to comment? Without luck. I like this poem so much, the "familiars," the rugged path, and the song of the sea.
ReplyDelete