Roswila's Dream & Poetry Realm

SEE ALSO: TRYING TO HOLD A BOX OF LIGHT (photos, realistic to abstract)

Tuesday, December 26, 2006


Geneva Point Center, Lake Winnepesaukee, N.H.,
sketched July 1978 by Patricia Kelly

The above tree stunned me when I approached her. My sketch does no real justice to the tree. (The poem below comes closer, though it's not about the tree in the drawing.) I was delighted when the owners of the camp turned two of my tree drawings into greetings cards that they then sold in their on-site store. I had been at the camp offering creative writing classes. At the time the camp center was owned by The National Council of Churches in New York City, where I worked as a secretary and led a daily poetry workshop on lunch break.

Not only do I love trees in waking life, but they are companions in my dreams. As in the below poem, based on a dream I had in May of 1997:


I have no roots. No stories
of the Old World from the Polish
grandmother who scrubbed floors
to feed and educate her daughter,
her history held in a proud
compensating silence.

I have no roots but those I steal.
No cradling web of stories about
the mother dead as I turned ten,
my family's silence more final
than her dying.

I have no roots but those I steal
in dreams of the Irish father
and grandmother, the grandfather
and great-grandparents, who struggled
in vaudeville and commerce,
the Great Depression and two World Wars,
yet dropped only the rare fact
in the same few oft repeated stories,
leaving me to milk my dark intuitions
for sustenance.

I have no roots but those I steal
in dreams from trees:

My father, doubly transformed
by death and dream, guides me
to a clearing in the wood
where grows an enormous
softly glowing tree, at which
he gestures saying
"Look to your Mother."

Deeply awed, I inhale gratefully
of Her timeless silence.

* * * *

‘til next time, keep dreaming,


[aka: Patricia Kelly]

****If you wish to copy or use any of my writing or poems, please email me for permission (under “View my complete profile”)****My other blog: ROSWILA’S TAROT GALLERY & JOURNAL.

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At 12:14 PM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

Wow-- how powerful... I can't say any more; you know how emotional I get when you touch my own history so deeply-- the things I feel cut off from.

'compensating silence' is such a fascinating phrase. I can build an entire reverie of my own around that one.

Bless you once again for sharing


At 8:17 PM , Blogger Roswila said...

And bless you for commenting. I may be 63 in one week and yet I still shake like a nervous child everytime I go to hit blogger's "publish" button. I.e, do I really want to put this out there? Is it too much? Is it any good at all? Etc., etc. So to hear it means something to someone is, well, a wonderful holiday gift. :-)

At 6:43 AM , Anonymous Anonymous said...

I love the drawing which somehow is about all trees even as it is so clearly about this particular tree. I can see why they chose to print it up :) And I feel moved to say to the voice in the poem, your roots are not stolen but perhaps unseen, still there and yours even when seeming too far to touch or hold.

Mary Pat

At 9:59 AM , Blogger Roswila said...

Thanks so much for your comments, Mary Pat.

Your thought about the drawing being as much about all trees as that particular one helps me understand more clearly what I was seeing and feeling in its presence.

And the "voice" that wrote the poem is happy to have been heard and responded to. Ultimately, in pursuing years, I realized that that dream (along with other things) prepared me for what happened when I had to cut the few living roots (i.e, family relationships) I had left for my own health and well being. It's as if the dream were saying here are the only roots that are always there, that we never fail, that never fail us, that always renew...our connection to Spirit.


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