Sunday Morning. Dara Knots..

I was out early today walking my red dogs around the neighborhood. Once again I had Kris Kristopherson's evocative song running through my mind. However it was Johnny Cash's cover of the tune that I 'heard'; it is perfect for his smoky low tone, the velvet-rough scrape of a cat's tongue in your ears. It was quiet, almost as if we were all alone in the world except for a few other dogs that barked as we passed by. I've never really been high or wished to be--my 'drug' of choice is something else, topic for another essay--but the loneliness surely resonates.

Which segues neatly into sharing some verses from this season, the main part of the little bit of writing I 've been able to do. They seem rather bleak or dark, I expect, and in some ways they are, but there is always a fine sliver of brightness shining through somewhere just as I feel in the deepest part of my depressions. Without further ado, here they are:

          I

Loneliness designed this gown

That has come to fit me well,

Buttoned tight with solitude

For no one is left to tell.

Long gone dreams of yesteryear

Now a quilt of memories make.

Some nights I draw it over me,

Nights when sleep does me forsake.

Familiar faces, fading

Yet precious still and dear

Are the company I seek.

Though distant, they seem near.

So it may be I am not alone,

For shades and ghosts yet keep

Counsel and give comfort

When the silence grows too deep.

          II

Words are still my playthings

After all these years.

Shape and color may intrigue

But words absorb my tears,

Capture all my joy and pain,

And shape it into rhyme.

I pour my soul out into words

As I have for all my time.

Painting pictures, singing songs

And capturing the taste

Of all that passes near me

That none of it may waste.

Still, words are my tools and toys,

The boards and bricks to make

My feeble try at a legacy

Before my leave I take.

         

          Erosion

A sandstone hoodoo standing yet

In wind and rain that will not let

Its primal lines remain for long.

Though scarred and scored, standing strong

For awhile yet, an eon or two!

What else is there for it to do?

And like that stone, I wear away

As time erodes me, day by day,

As wind and rain of troubled times

Scour me until only the rhymes

Within the core of me remain.

Foundation and frame withstand the pain.

            Anticipated Deja Vu

Looking ahead to a life-to-be

That waits beyond the veil for me.

Thinking of loose ends and broken ties,

Too late hellos and too soon goodbyes.

            With which one will the hand of fate

            Renew our bonds? I anticipate

            A reunion. At first we  do not recognize

            Kindred souls in a new disguise.

Still, strangers we can never be

For the Dara* knot of you and me

Will always entwine and reconnect

With the timeless bonds we both respect.

            I look forward to that bright someday

            And sense it is not too far away.

            You have already gone across

            To prepare and wait. My sense of loss

Diminishes as my days unwind

I’m alone yet I’m not and do not mind

As I look ahead to that life-to-be,

To another chance for you and me.

All poems (c) GMW Aug 2017

*A Dara knot is the main familiar Celtic interwoven pattern, inspired by the tangled roots of the Druid's sacred oak tree. "Dara" is also the use-name of my guardian angel, given to me in a powerful dream a number of years ago.  Here are a few examples. They can be very simple or extremely elaborate but I have a theory the ancient Celts came up with this and the many interlocking/interwoven patterns they used as a way to graphically portray the turns and twists of life and lives, the coincidences and connections, those jade vu moments and the soul mates and soul group we belong with.