I feel myself drifting
back in time
to days of innocence that seemed
as if that world of ever-dreams
would never end.
And I find myself now wondering
if in truth, it ever really ended as it seemed;
for the child inside still cries in pure frustration
and seeks yet for an answer,
when the question hasn’t quite appeared
searching for a clarity that must command
all answers to be found beyond
the sound of reprimand.
And I feel my soul arising
in a spirit that can’t be denied.
For I know this writing
streams within my veins,
insisting on expression
in these words of seeming solitude,
that speak in moods of vast emotion;
reaching out to grasp the way,
as interactions move and swirl and sway,
connecting all we say and do
to all that seems most other than ourselves.
Mind drifting then again
to a moment undeniably complete
within one memory that
speaks itself again out loud,
when the sound of one small bird began
this quest that never seems to end
at a time when nine seemed juvenile,
yet spoke in volumes of the wilds
of soul in all its glory.
‘Twas a sleepy day of heat,
and I in school,
bored by what the teacher
tried to tell us was the truth
seeing, even then, the variations left unspoken
in multitudes of angles
opening out within my mind.
When, schoolroom windows opened wide,
I drifted on a tide of spring
about to bring the summer into being.
And all that I was taught
faded in a sense of ultimate,
unaltered clarity -
one-pointed in its purpose -
yet in multi-flavored
hues of nature’s song,
compelling me to come along
and glide within its currents of pure air.
When just outside the open
almost hidden in the leaves of springtime green,
within a bush, one tiny bird began to sing,
leading me to realms beyond belief;
and teaching me, within its sound
how rounds of inspiration came to play
within the light of day and me.
For you see, just then
I knew, beyond a doubt,
the meaning of the trills that sent
my youthful spirit wondering through
an alternate reality of gratitude,
where beauty played itself alive
so naturally, a sunlit sigh
escaped itself and entered into me.
And this meaning still
understanding through my life.
Even now, in words of poetry
that merely float into the flight
of fingertips that type.
For mind is drifting back
gathering the errant threads,
to complete another picture
in this tapestry of life
within these words that finally utter
the true magnificence that can be found
within the height and depth
of each experience.
And I will never forget
the enlivening feel
of becoming a bird through the tone of its trill
while still I seek, I need, I want
no more than that all others understand
the symmetry of our connectedness
within the vast effects that stream
within each tone now uttering
itself through every living thing
and us . . .
? Michaelette ?
Copyright© 2001 Michaelette L. Romano
All Rights Reserved
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