Beth Jochum
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the poet's path
​ 

the place I sat -
the secret place -
was deeply quiet, where
pine, privet bush and arbor vitae
have conspired a canopy overhead
just for me, it seems
shielding me
yet
when the sky opened up
its outpouring
its cleansing
eventually reached my scorched
soul
 
the only way
             is to the core
the pit inside the fruit
the surface becomes too obvious
            for me
BORING!
irritability       
            consumes me
agitation
at the sameness,

the blur,
                    the monotone
numb,
then paralyze me

 
so, inside I reach...
the only way
IN

 is in
 deep quiet
to observe
and not participate
 
the mind,
its thoughts
wrangle and   
suppress
suffocate and drown
 
the only way...
  IS
 just as this storm
is the gift to
    the poet
its crashing thunder
its beating
rains
yelling angrily
STOP!
    LOOK!
         LISTEN!
 
the poet's path is lonely

the poet's path is a brilliant palette
of goldfinch and thistle
honeybee on purple knapweed
birdsfoot and chicory
 
I couldn't swim
            so I flew...
Nature,
my teacher
            my guru
i flew as always
to You
 
the poet's path is lonely -
​

the poet's path is a brilliant palette
of goldfinch and purple knapweed

birdsfoot and chicory

-
©Beth Jochum, 8.3.2019

Picture

​​8.6.19
when i sat under the canopy of arborvitae, pine and privet on saturday, august 3, three days after a black moon (a second new moon in one month), i felt dead, yet somehow alive; numb yet somehow awake, maybe because there was no will moving me to be or do anything but just sit, be still. and there was a sense of surrendering, letting go, giving in to a higher power for guidance, so i asked, i asked for guidance, for help, for clarity and direction...i asked for signs.
i wiped my mind screen clean.  erased all thoughts.  saw the clear yet vague horizontal energy moving that i see when i close my eyes and go inward, deeply.  i thought of Skye, and then saw his right eye, the amber gold of a gentle soul looking into mine, just like when i kiss him goodnight every night on his bed, and i lift up his head and look right into his eyes as he looks into mine.
as usual, when sitting in the mystery of Nature with no thought, i began to see what was around me...from several yards, i could see the soft white of bushes in the field - i do not know what they are, but know that the white was there, in abundance, in early Spring as well.  i then noticed right before me the purple knapweed, and looking at it closer, and taking one stalk into my hands, i saw how the little threads like long pieces of saffron or eyelashes edged outward and upward, becoming white with dark highlights and tips, just like the crown chakra might be....then i saw the tiny red berries on some bush, and thought of how the birds love that...and then the yellow of birdsfoot - always thinking that it looks more like cats claws when held together and the little claw on the inside is revealed....then i turned my head to see the gorgeous orange-pink - like summer sunset - of gladiolus bloom....then gentle, soft blue of chicory....and everywhere, all around me, was abundant green, green, green...enough for all, enough to lighten and heal the heart of every soul on this planet.
then i saw the gentle slant of light yet steady rains out in the distance, and then the rumble of thunder advised me that a storm was approaching quickly....i sat there, transfixed, though...and didn't want to move...protected by the canopy of vegetation, i barely felt a drop.....until the heavens opened wide as if tears of angels were pouring down on the hot earth...





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  • Home
  • Music Journey, So Far....
  • Photographs and Sketches
    • Love Letters to Nature
  • FeatherWomanMusings
  • Gallery & Inspirations
    • Clare de Lune
  • Spirit
    • Kindness
  • Contemplations
    • STILLNESS
  • Contact & Buy CD's
  • rubysartstudio Betsy Soares Art
  • OntheWingPhotography