SoulFlying


There is always the possibility of an unfolding.

This poem began with a piece of paper. I had a blank sheet in my hands while I was invigilating an exam. As I walked between the desks, I folded and unfolded the piece of paper. Life is a little like this I thought, as the possibility of a blank page presented itself as I unfolded the paper.

There are pages in my life that I’d like to rip out, the deaths of my brothers Paul and Michael, the loss of my mother too soon, my father, perhaps too late as he became trapped in dementia. I’d like to erase bad decisions and pencil in decisions not made because my heart lacked courage. I’d like to rewrite words that hurt and shape them into something gentler. Those things will never happen, the past is written in indelible ink. Nevertheless, today is still to be unfolded.

This poem is dedicated to my partner, Julia, who with tremendous courage chose to unfold a new page in her life. I think though, that it also applies to all who feel the tug of a new hope, of a new way of seeing things and a more courageous, authentic way of being.

Before me is a page of possibility, waiting for me to make my mark. I can fold it away and wait or I can begin to unfold not only the page but all the things that I know I can still be.

Perhaps it’s time to dig into possibility and let something unexpected emerge in that great-life-gulp to  come.

It’s never too late to stand tall.


SoulFlying
                 For Julia

There is the possibility of an
unfolding,
Like  tiny womb-wet fingers
uncurling
To catch the breathing air
unaware
Of the great-life-gulp to come.

Now there is the lightness of an
untangling,
Umbilical cut from old hurts
unburdened
From the weight of another’s heart.
un-leashed
To sing a solo song:

Listen to the cry as it
rises.
This is the tallness of You, my love,
standing
Firm-footed on your ancient self,
running
To catch the flying soul that always was –

And now can
Be.

Ruth Everson


Comments

  1. Anonymous22 April 2013 at 12:55

    Thank you, Ruth. You have spoken to an angst that I grapple with presently. There are so many things I'd like to rewrite, redo, undo. And can't. But I know I'm stronger and more interesting because of my mistakes, not despite them. How bland we'd be without some ink blots on our pages!

    ReplyDelete
  2. D.J. Kirkby22 April 2013 at 22:53

    You poetry is sublime but the prose above it reads lie poetry too. only you could manage that trick Ruth. Now, 'fess up, what exciting thing is julia doing? Good luck to her whatever she has chosen to do. x

    ReplyDelete
  3. D.J. Kirkby22 April 2013 at 22:54

    *like not lie (I must learn to proofread)

    ReplyDelete

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