WHAT WAITS ETERNAL (A Poem)

[The Three of Wands in the Mary El Tarot; used by permission]



WHAT WAITS ETERNAL
(On Viewing a Picture Postcard from Ireland)


What waits eternal behind
that blood red door

What hums on the other side so bright
with awful light that lock
the door we must

What slips green clues around
our fright and offers
ciphers like that old broom leaning
on the wall, that tilts
toward the latch

* * * *

I wrote the above in 1986 and only now feel I come close to "getting" what I was trying to get at then. But don't ask me to tell you what I get now. However, I can say it's not about death, as some folk thought 20 years ago when I would share it at poetry readings. And it is about what lies beyond and within the entire "ball of wax" of existence. "The Great Mystery." "Universal Spirit." The awe-full beauty of the unknown that calls us forward and leads us back to our own hearts, where it has always lived. But I did not really know this is what I was writing about 20 years ago. I only knew then that I had to follow as far as I could the call of the images on that postcard.

By the way, the picture on the card was of an old thatched roof cottage with a blood red door, below which bits of green sprouted and next to which an old broom leaned. This was actually the second of two poems I wrote about that postcard and I'll post the first one soon.

Resource: Lapis Magazine Online of the New York City Open Center, where "the inner meaning of contemporary life" is explored.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[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.

THE WEAVE (A Poem)

[digital art: Jonathan Cummings, webshots.com]


THE WEAVE

Beneath the skylight
the philodendron flourishes,
woven back and forth across
the wooden banister supports
by human hands.

Its growing edge stands free
of the green weave
in a slim golden furl,
and is gently bent to fit
the ever denser pattern.

The philodendron slowly
accommodates each bowing
of its tender shoots,
each bending back
upon its older self,

held by the pattern
but growing, always
growing towards the light.

* * * *

I wrote this in 1997 about a philodendron I had in my hallway near a skylight. Sadly, on a fire inspection I was told to take it out of the hallway because it was a fire hazard -- something about blocking access to the ladder to the roof, which it clearly did not. I still miss the sight of that green glory when I'd make the last turn up the long three flights of stairs to my home. It's still in my home, now growing on hooks up the wall, and across above my living room window. It was a gift many years ago from a Tarot student and continues to be a gift, every day.

Resource: All Spirit/Poems by Rumi.

‘til next time, keep dreaming,

Roswila
[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.