poetry as a journey of growth and healing.....listening to hearts speak and speaking to hearts that listen.....awakening the sacred presence dormant in each voice.....where voices move in a circle to no beginning and to no end......it's the circle of voices come alive.....
06 October 2011
You are me
I offer you,
voice I speak myself,
take me.
Make all things fall,
for you unite all of me.
Writing about a poem always implies a risk; saying something that may either fall short or over reach what the poem actually tries to say. But what does the poem try to say?
The mystery of poetry is that the poem itself is not the simple product of the poet’s intention. A poem necessarily takes the intention as its starting point yet it needs to transcend and transform it to become itself.
This may explain why we often end up with a text which opens horizons we did not expect, at least to those who will read it. It somehow transports us.
Each time I read a poem I’m in a way translating it. Translating it not into my own tongue, rather translating it into something I’m not too familiar with. This is where my dialogue with the poem starts. Were I to read a poem in terms purely familiar to me I would be missing what in it beckons me toward the unknown.
A poem gives me the possibility to emerge from the claustrophobia of my inner monologue and offers the spaciousness of an open and boundless dialogue.
And the poem takes me to us, to our encounter, our meeting, our dialogue. It’s the same openness. By open I mean something with no agenda, which is not mapped, contained, directed towards a goal, seeking something particular; openness is this space of mutual recognition, inquisitiveness, acceptance where I put my share of humanity onto the scale of the encounter and you put yours.
“No purpose intervenes between I and You, no greed and no anticipation; and longing itself is changed as it plunges from the dream into appearance. Every means is an obstacle. Only where all means have disintegrated encounters occur.” ― Martin Buber, I and Thou
In the spaciousness and openness of this encounter which can stretch as far as the firmament I can allow things which need to disintegrate in me to disintegrate, to fall apart, ‘make all things fall’ – the burdens I may no longer wish to carry, the faults I no longer wish to somber my heart – and allow myself to become whole.
There can be no breakthrough without a falling apart and this falling apart is in essence my sense of trust and surrender in something greater than me.
This is a prayer addressed to both of us and little do I know if it comes from you or if it comes from me:
take me make all things fall for you unite all of me
Thank you for what you wrote, looking at it again today made me think of that: If we let the image of the self, experience the freedom to fail and dear to look at it, stare at the reality, it might not hurt us as much. Maybe this is one way for the light to come through?
And also what you wrote: "In the spaciousness and openness of this encounter which can stretch as far as the firmament I can allow things which need to disintegrate in me to disintegrate, to fall apart, ‘make all things fall’ – the burdens I may no longer wish to carry, the faults I no longer wish to somber my heart – and allow myself to become whole."
This makes me feel I want to let go, a part of my inside is hoping for forgivness.
I also wrote a poem when thinking about all this.....
Title: Let it
Blinded by you spelling of truth. To be correct, just right. Blinded by the pure that I'm not. Throught this, my light.
Writing about a poem always implies a risk; saying something that may either fall short or over reach what the poem actually tries to say. But what does the poem try to say?
ReplyDeleteThe mystery of poetry is that the poem itself is not the simple product of the poet’s intention. A poem necessarily takes the intention as its starting point yet it needs to transcend and transform it to become itself.
This may explain why we often end up with a text which opens horizons we did not expect, at least to those who will read it. It somehow transports us.
Each time I read a poem I’m in a way translating it. Translating it not into my own tongue, rather translating it into something I’m not too familiar with. This is where my dialogue with the poem starts. Were I to read a poem in terms purely familiar to me I would be missing what in it beckons me toward the unknown.
A poem gives me the possibility to emerge from the claustrophobia of my inner monologue and offers the spaciousness of an open and boundless dialogue.
And the poem takes me to us, to our encounter, our meeting, our dialogue. It’s the same openness. By open I mean something with no agenda, which is not mapped, contained, directed towards a goal, seeking something particular; openness is this space of mutual recognition, inquisitiveness, acceptance where I put my share of humanity onto the scale of the encounter and you put yours.
“No purpose intervenes between I and You, no greed and no anticipation; and longing itself is changed as it plunges from the dream into appearance. Every means is an obstacle. Only where all means have disintegrated encounters occur.”
― Martin Buber, I and Thou
In the spaciousness and openness of this encounter which can stretch as far as the firmament I can allow things which need to disintegrate in me to disintegrate, to fall apart, ‘make all things fall’ – the burdens I may no longer wish to carry, the faults I no longer wish to somber my heart – and allow myself to become whole.
There can be no breakthrough without a falling apart and this falling apart is in essence my sense of trust and surrender in something greater than me.
This is a prayer addressed to both of us and little do I know if it comes from you or if it comes from me:
take me
make all things fall
for you unite all of me
This comment has been removed by the author.
ReplyDeleteThank you for what you wrote, looking at it again today made me think of that:
ReplyDeleteIf we let the image of the self, experience the freedom to fail and dear to look at it, stare at the reality, it might not hurt us as much. Maybe this is one way for the light to come through?
And also what you wrote:
"In the spaciousness and openness of this encounter which can stretch as far as the firmament I can allow things which need to disintegrate in me to disintegrate, to fall apart, ‘make all things fall’ – the burdens I may no longer wish to carry, the faults I no longer wish to somber my heart – and allow myself to become whole."
This makes me feel I want to let go, a part of my inside is hoping for forgivness.
I also wrote a poem when thinking about all this.....
Title: Let it
Blinded by you
spelling of truth.
To be correct, just right.
Blinded by the
pure that I'm not.
Throught this, my light.