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Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Poetry. Show all posts

Friday, February 19, 2016

BECOMING A POETIC DAREDEVIL


When I dare to be powerful,
to use my strength in the service of my vision,
then it becomes less and less important
whether I am afraid. ~ Audre Lorde 

When I ask my students to write a poem, a hushed and anxious silence comes over the room. I feel their soft tissue contract and hard shells close down. It's all over now. Gone is their creative inspiration. No pearls of poetic wisdom will be given here.

I understand that writing (and sharing) a poem is akin to revealing your most embarrassing moment so I usually try to find a sideways strategy to coax open those locked shells. 


Step 1: Acknowledge Our Common Humanity

It helps to know that everyone can be vunerable. To that end, I might tell them about my most embarrassing moment to give them the courage to open up again:

I was a drum major leading the Huron High School marching band during halftime at the homecoming game. For those of you who don't know, this American football game is part of a tradition that welcomes back alumni. In consequence, the stands were packed full of current students, friends, teachers, administrators, as well as former graduates. There was a light rain that evening when we marched briskly across the field. Challenged by my co-leader Mark Gardner, I learned to kick high while twirling the baton. When I finished my high kicking and baton stunt, Mark would throw his high up in the air, spin around, catch it and march along again. He loved to do daring performance throws. Most often, he would catch the baton, but sometimes he would miss. It didn't stop him, and he constantly pushed me to do more. Our performance was going fine that night, but I was a little worried about my kick. I would make it high this time. I'd show Mark that I could lead as well as anyone. 


HALFTIME 

The game was so close! Everyone sat in anticipation. When we finished our musical numbers, it would start again. All eyes were on the field as we turned the corner. I'm the first to face the tightly packed and excited crowd. Throwing my baton and kicking high, I felt the rhythm. I knew I could do more, kick higher, and really show my enthusiasm. Inspired by the driving beat of the drums, I pranced proudly and kicked higher still. So high, in fact, that I landed in great surprise on my backside!

The crowd was suddenly hushed while a slow building roar of uncontrolled mirth rolled over the bleachers and arrived to my burning ears. They're laughing! They're laughing at me! Up, I jumped. I looked back and here comes my ever teasing competitor.  When he's within earshot I whisper, "Stop Laughing! How could you!?" My eyes screamed at him but meanwhile, I must gather my injured pride and continue as everyone knows that the show must go on or to borrow another useful cliché, I thought:

You have to get back on the horse when you fall.

I marched up to the front, turned and waited for the band.  It's time to conduct the ever popular Washington Post March. I lift my arms, blow the whistle in two-step time and begin. I dare a look over at Mark, and yes, he's still laughing. 

Now, I laugh, too, but it took a while to find any humor in that public humiliation.  

Oh vanity. You are a tough adversary! 

I thank Mark to this day for helping me realize that I needed to be more playful and take risks and their potential failure lightly.  Later, I became more able to gracefully accept my flaws and find the freedom in laughing at (and with!) myself.  

As a writer, it's important to  be emotionally honest. As a writer, the biggest failure is if you are not authentic because readers will let you know - even if it's just by ignoring you. Be brave. Make mistakes. Besides, you can always edit later. Go ahead. Put yourself out there! You have so much to gain by focusing on your vision instead of worrying about your vulnerability. 

Washington Post March




After reading that story of my own humiliation, I encourage you to remember and let go of any idea that you have to protect your image. Offering an undefended humanity to others as you write is the most generous and appreciated gift. 

Next up, I ask the question: What are the most important aspects of compelling writing? 

SIDE NOTE: 
John Philip Sousa wrote the Washington Post March in 1889 for a literary contest. In the inaugural Amateur Authors Association essay contest sponsored by the Washington Post, which was held on the Smithsonian grounds on June 15, 1889, a crowd of 25,000 people gathered to listen to the march and watch as 11 students (8 girls and 3 boys) received their gold metals.  

Wednesday, December 10, 2014

On Seeking Home

Oasis Reflection: Obstacles are a matter of perception...
La Ventana "Windows" Park in Condado. San Juan, Puerto Rico

What is your view?


Recently, I've been reading On Moving: A Writer's Meditation on New Houses, Old Hauts, and Finding Home Again by Louise DeSalvo. the author addresses the topic of "home"and the strong desire people have to choose the perfect home. I started to think about how often people move and how most of us hope that a new location will solve most of our problems.

However, I am sure that we bring our problems with us wherever we go. What I mean is that the cause of our dissatisfaction is often not external, but internal. It's part of our personality and/or is shaped by our attitude.  I admit that like DeSalvo, I love to travel.  I love to imagine my life in those new unknown places; nevertheless, it's healthy to remember that our disturbances come with us wherever we find ourselves.

What do you see in the photograph above? Do you notice the rock in the center? The water flowing over the rocks to form a small pool of water in the right foreground? Or the deep blue ocean in the distance? Our perspective informs what we allow ourselves to see and experience. The rock can be seen as an obstacle to blocking access to the water or an interesting formation to scale up and over - an opportunity to see the unobstructed ocean from the top. However, what we see remains with us no matter where we go.

I believe that we have to be bravely curious about our obstacles in life and learn from these ever present rocks.

But today, the Rock cries out to us, clearly, forcefully,
Come, you may stand upon my
Back and face your distant destiny,
But seek no haven in my shadow.
I will give you no hiding place down here.


Excerpt from "On the Pulse of Morning" by Maya Angelou


Simon and Garfunkel "I am a rock"
© 2014 Cynthia Pittmann

Wednesday, August 20, 2014

Inspired to Change




I’m organizing people, tasks, plans
at work and in my dreams. I’m
living my work life twice,
once awake and once asleep.
Let me out!

Walking down the street,
I’m shucked as new corn –
Exposed, raw, open.
It’s New York City in the fall
Curtains blown through -
caught, held, pinned.
(Muse refuse?)

 Outside the box
walking through Washington
Square in clear air
Green corners filled out
In secret places
rendezvous and parlez-vous
“Bonjour mes amies!”

Feeling life, living, alive
Holding together, letting go
Convex, concave
light and loose …
willpower?
– it’s now or never.


Sunday, February 23, 2014

Om-day

Beginning's End, Beginning

In the flow, rapid and slow
In the gaps, on the line-less
Space to down the feather
Comfort, gently caught in the
Breeze, tips brushing tiny

Moments of meaning, until
All evaporates and disperses 
Into cloudy and condencing,
Contracting and squeezing ...
Beginnings pouring out into
Boundary-less sky

Caught by gravity, pushed 
Down and pulled by 
destiny and desire filling 
Soil with essence, quenched,
Now flooded in pools

Splashed about by children 
In summer stripes and
Sun-suits, joy-splashers
Innocent and abundant...
More than complete, 
Spilling over in easy
Harmony, seen, absorbed

Delight in a corner smile 
Where another watches, 
Breathes and releases in-
To another life, in another
Moment, neither near or
Far, but close and certain
At end's beginning, 
Beginning ends.

~Meditations on a Sunday afternoon
 
 Cynthia Pittmann

Saturday, February 8, 2014

Transitions

 

Life and Letting Go

Sitting on the porch step perplexed and
Pondering wherefore, whence and whatever! 
However, how come, hence and finally,
What goes around, comes around.
Return,  depart and what happened? 

My little boy is growing up, 
Just the way he should. He's 
Moving out and becoming 
All that he wants to be. 
I'm happy-sad, spilling over 

Confusion and curtailed honesty.
Must be strong. Be well. Be better
But my boy is moving out. Starting
To fly (I almost pushed him 
Out of this house-nest)

So say it loud!
Say it clear! Deep breath:
Be well! It's time. 
Bye hon. Bon voyage! (and 
Buck up, Mom.)

PS.
Sending love and hugs! 

Wednesday, May 22, 2013

Memories Re-visited

Memories Re-visited


Mother and Daughter 2009
Life is a surprise. It's full of forgetting and remembering but when you forget, you don't remember. Okay. Take that thought slowly. It is only when you remember that you realize that you forgot something. It's like that with most lost memories...they come rushing through your mind after some triggering moment. It is also possible to remember factual events, but still forget the accompanying feelings that those events entailed. So I ask myself: Do you remember if you don't feel the experience again? Lately, my memory is inundated with past experiences that come upon me, suddenly. And too, I'm aware of the feelings of another time. They sweep through my mind alive with the fragrant and bittersweet breeze...

Morning Memory

White lace flower curtain
Growing round and close.
Late morning heat, cooled,
Again the earth breathes sky.

Brushed by the damp and
Dead leaves, I walk.
Head-wind determined...
Old fears dry and peel off.

Oh memory wind, oh friend
I open the door to your
everything and all -in
this once-was breeze

Heavy stuck leaf-prints
Evaporate and crumble
Soil-rich with promise-
Newness yet to come.

Cynthia Pittmann
2009

~~~~~
What causes this upsurge of memory? It could be a certain age, or having time to reflect? Perhaps it is a combination of turbulence and slow thought all in the context of a relationship? I am a mother who has a daughter- and "we get along" my daughter would say. Lately, when the breeze of her life blows through mine, I remember what it was like to live many years ago. I don't mean that I experience what she experiences (though that happens too) I mean that I remember myself as a teenager. I think back on my own high school years and I remember what it felt like to be devoted, absorbed and swept away by another-in the "teen way"- which is not usually accessible to my ordinary task-oriented adult self. Lately, I surprise myself with tears when I listen to the uncomplicated music of Taylor Swift. Suddenly, I remember/realize the pain of early unrequited love when I hear this song (Don't judge me!!! :-) :

Letter to Sweet-Sixteen Me

Dearest young Miss C,

Going as you are into this life with
Anger, joy, loss, and hope swirling in
A kaleidoscope of poetry and dreams, riding on
a Ferris wheel, "Carousel" and "Brigadoon"
"June is busting out all over..." but

Michigan winters are cold...
Spring arrives early in Ohio...
It's a trip all night to reach down and
find a muse alive in the apple blossoms...

A wild but careful you, an
overfilled-lilac-purple-budding-in-vase you,
set on the mantle and likely to fall.
Oh, I would catch you if I could.

Still wild horses will buck and break that
country-roads-take-me-home innocence.
Should I tell you the secrets of your future?
The crystal ball has gone smoky.

You must have your time...uncomplicated
Drama with Romeo while you play Juliet or
A Christmas Pixi who sits on Santa
Claus's lap beaming over-bright
smiles into the camera.

Cynthia Pittmann
1950s Musical Playlist

"The old dreams were good dreams;
they didn't work out, but I'm glad I had them."

Robert James Waller, "The Bridges of Madison County"


~~~~~~

~~~~~~

Hey there, Cynthia (on the far left), how are you doing? It's been a long time; and, it's so nice to see you, again!








 
Post Script:

Thank you, blogger friends, for taking this trip down memory lane with me. I know we stayed up all night talking but the sun is rising and I feel renewed! xxoo

 (Note: Sections of this post are updated from 2009)

Saturday, October 23, 2010

Autumn's Leaving

Oasis Feature: Goodbye's Returning

I'm back from Michigan, and am still processing the astonishingly vivid autumn week. I decided to take an intentional walk down Memory Lane, and found a richly intense source of personal history. I highly recommend the experience of living in your own memoir by re-visiting the people and places that impressed themselves into your memory at an earlier time in your life.

On Memory Lane, I visited Apple Charles' orchard, and discovered a former high school friend is Apple Charlie. I walked through a pumpkin patch, and remembered the great pumpkin, and our farm fund raising activity where all proceeds went towards the purchase of a new motorcycle for the Pittmann girls.  I strolled the Parkview cemetery grounds while Brian Alexander filmed for the B roll that will be shown during the credits for the documentary. (This film is being made about my mother and her partner and the events surrounding their murder.) I met up with Lillian L., one of  Mom's motorcycle buddies, who still rides at 80 years old, and had a delightful lunch filled with her entertaining chatter. I went to the scene of the crime, rather, our farm house, and met the new owners who generously showed me all the changes they had made to the interior of the house.  I returned to our first house on West Point street in Taylor where I lived with my family until I was three years old. Located behind the house, I discovered Mom's Siesta Motel has been converted to a business office building where people siesta no longer. I walked around the corner to Mack's Shack, which is now Kelly's Bar, and remembered the first time I passed for eighteen, and reflected how once when I was sixteen years old I sat at the bar and had a beer with my father. I felt so grown up.

Courageously returning to these specific locations of my personal history reminded me to embrace the past, which includes as they say both the bitter and sweet. Join me as I share memory moments in the next couple of posts in the Oasis Feature; Goodbye's Returning.

The Thing Is

by Ellen Bass
to love life, to love it even
when you have no stomach for it
and everything you've held dear
crumbles like burnt paper in your hands,
your throat filled with the silt of it.
When grief sits with you, its tropical heat
thickening the air, heavy as water
more fit for gills than lungs;
when grief weights you like your own flesh
only more of it, an obesity of grief,
you think, How can a body withstand this?
Then you hold life like a face
between your palms, a plain face,
no charming smile, no violet eyes,
and you say, yes, I will take you
I will love you, again.
"The Thing Is" by Ellen Bass, from Mules of Love. © BOA Editions, Ltd., 2002.

Sunday, May 16, 2010

Shake, Rattle and Roll

Oasis Life: A Wake Up Call; A view of this morning's mini-mudslides on the side of the mountain


Get out from that kitchen and rattle
those pots and pans

Get out from that kitchen and rattle
those pots and pans

Well, roll my breakfast 'cause I'm a hungry man

I said shake, rattle and roll

I said shake, rattle and roll

I said shake, rattle and roll

I said shake, rattle and roll
You never do nothin' to save your doggone soul...

Oh, come on, Elvis!

Do you really mean for her to get into the kitchen and cook some vittles?


(Or should I blame these sexist lyrics on songwriter Bill Haley?- Please forgive the aside comment here- I just couldn't resist. I digress!)

We had an earthquake this morning!

It occurred sometime after 1:00am while I was lying in bed watching Camilla (1994), a film staring Jessica Tandy and Bridget Fonda. It's kind of a female road trip film that makes me think about how I want my life to play out in the coming years. It's Jessica Tandy's final film. She plays Camilla, a free-spirited violinist who makes a difficult compromise in her life. I particularly appreciate Tandy because as an actress over 80 years of age, she is willing to skinny dip, celebrate life, and make love to her long lost lover (who happens to be her real life husband). The story is compelling- even if some of young Fonda's lines feel false.


Camilla is a real shake-up-your-life movie-as was this morning's earthquake.


~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~


I took a tour of the property to check for damage and found


just a few avocados lying on the ground but most are still hardily growing on the tree.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~























~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

We had an earthquake early this morning!


Low rumble crescendos to a smart pound as

adrenalin rushes the sleep out of our bones.

Old shoeboxed photographs fall,

upper shelves now layer the floor.

Box sets of Paul and George open and

spill a pile of The Beatles out

and into the laundry.


We had an earthquake early this morning!


Rushing outside, calling

"What happened?" while the canine pack sniff,

wag and lick the nearest leg or toe.

"A surprise visit from the entire family!"


We had an earthquake early this morning

- a cause for panic

- a cause for celebration

- all is well.


Cynthia Pittmann 5/2010

Tuesday, February 16, 2010

What is truly important?


Oasis Reflection:
This week, I've been thinking about how we need to remember to teach our children what is fundamentally important in life. Mary Dow Brine's poem,"Somebody's Mother"
(Writer's Almanac/Feb 16, 2010) touched my heart.


~~~~

Somebody's Mother
by Mary Dow Brine

The woman was old and ragged and gray
And bent with the chill of the Winter's day.
The street was wet with a recent snow
And the woman's feet were aged and slow.
She stood at the crossing and waited long,
Alone, uncared for, amid the throng
Of human beings who passed her by
Nor heeded the glance of her anxious eye.
Down the street with laughter and shout,
Glad in the freedom of 'school let out,'
Came the boys like a flock of sheep,
Hailing the snow piled white and deep.
Past the woman so old and gray
Hastened the children on their way.
Nor offered a helping hand to her—
So meek, so timid, afraid to stir
Lest the carriage wheels or the horses' feet
Should crowd her down in the slippery street.
At last came one of the merry troop,
The gayest lad of all the group;
He paused beside her and whispered low,
"I'll help you cross, if you wish to go."
Her aged hand on his strong young arm
She placed, and so, without hurt or harm,
He guided the trembling feet along,
Proud that his own were firm and strong.
Then back again to his friends he went,
His young heart happy and well content.
"She's somebody's mother, boys, you know,
For all she's aged and poor and slow,
And I hope some fellow will lend a hand
To help my mother, you understand,
If ever she's poor and old and grey,
And her own dear boy is far away."
"Somebody's mother" bowed low her head
In her home that night, and the prayer she said
Was, "God be kind to the noble boy,
Who is somebody's son, and pride and joy!"

(Public domain)

~~~~~


I think most of us hope to raise our children with the skills to be successful in life but do we remember that compassion for others is essential for a health and harmony?

These words are written on my prayer flags...

May we all reflect and connect with others while sharing the best we have to offer.

May we create harmony...and be harmonous. (I'm sending this thought to myself as well.)

May February's theme of love radiate throughout your life and all it's creations.

Sunday, February 7, 2010

Amelia Earhart's Courage


Courage Needed?


I recently saw the latest film on Amelia Earhart...






her compelling spirit and life are inspirational. I need that kind of strength for the day to day challenges of life.

Have you seen the film? Hillary Swank seems to embody the character and infuse her with life.

I noticed some omitted aspects of Earhart's life and ponder the decision to leave them out. I read that she had a serious sinus condition that had to be operated on three times. (Antibiotics were not yet discovered.) She sometimes had a drainage tube that was tapped on her face. Also, she had a gap between her front teeth. I read that her husband/promoter advised her to not smile in her up close professional photographs. Why do we need our heroes(heroines?) to be so flawless- and in Earhart's case- so healthy? (The movie left out the illness she experienced in her final flight.) It motivates me more when I see that she overcame her own personal challenges.
(image and biography- http://www.ellensplace.net/ae_lflt.html)
I also wonder if the movie romance details were accurate. I could not find any evidence that she was in an open type marriage- as the film portrayed. I frequently read that she and her husband were devoted to each other. (She has another love interest in the film.) I wonder if this contemporary detail was added to make her seem more independent? Regardless of the fudging of facts, after viewing the film, I find that I am inspired to be courageous and face my own fears.

May you have a vibrant and courageous week!


Sunday, January 31, 2010

Poetry Speaks

poetry

a restful moment

~in a life that~

tends to go dull

~in flat moments~

too frequently grounded

~in anxious tasks~

and tense hope ...










~~~~~~
Do you ever just need a little break from the hustle-bustle life?

Even a life that is full of tasks that you both want and need to do can feel overwhelming at times. Sometimes I start to wonder if I'm living the way I want to-where's the art? Where are those lovely moments? I can get so anxious that I feel sort of cocooned in a coping numbness that zaps the joy from my life. Poetry is an antidote to that feeling- as is art.

~~~~~~

Recently, I started getting The Writer's Almanac delivered to my email address each morning. Blogger Dana mentioned that she enjoyed starting her day by reading a poem each morning. I followed up on her link suggestion and started a free subscription to The Writer's Almanac. It's such a pleasure to know that I will have that little treasure waiting for me each morning along with the sometimes dreaded business email that comes flooding in- along with plenty of spam! These photographs are views that I've taken just before going off to work in the morning. I imagine that many of you also take out your phone camera and like me, look for that inspirational view to capture and perhaps post in a future blog?

~~~

I've had exciting news this week. My daughter, Amber, was nominated for the US Presidential Scholar Program/award! It was thrilling to know that she scored so high on her SAT. She also just recieved another honor- The Provost Scholarship- it's a cash award for academic excellence that goes towards one of her colleges. Did I tell you that she's applied to ten universities? Each one has so much paperwork for the parent to complete. I get anxious about my obliglations. Will I forget an important deadline? Argh. Still everything that is a stretch (even for my own good) has that transition tension and anxiety- at least that's how I experience it. We're going to Colorado for a long weekend to check out a couple of universities soon. My "to do list" grows!

I'd love to hear how you all engage life with vitality and inspiration.

Visit Dana at http://djhoeschen.wordpress.com/

Saturday, January 17, 2009

An Inaugral Blessing

Where the mind is without fear and the head is held high;

Where knowledge is free;
Where the world has not been broken up into fragments by narrow domestic walls;

Where words come out from the depth of truth;
Where tireless striving stretches its arms toward perfection;

Where the clear stream of reason has not lost its way into the dreary desert sand of dead habit;

Where the mind is led forward by Thee into ever widening thought and action;

Into that heaven of freedom, my Father, let my country awake.

Rabindranath Tagore


And may I also add that I absolutely love reconciliations!




My daughter was attending a National Young Leaders Conference in Washington DC on the exact day of the 2008 elections. We were both adjusting to Hillary Clinton's primary loss but happy that an exceptional candidate was selected by the Democratic party. I was so please that my daughter could be in Washington for that historical election! It was a right of passage for her and for the United States. The weight shifted from a burdened past to a hopeful future. With a friendly conciliatory spirit in mind, let us take a light-hearted look at the WAR classic, "Why can't we be friends," this time as interpreted by the politically incorrect (?) Smash Mouth:










Photo of B & H by Win McNamee/Getty Images *** Local Caption *** Barack Obama; Hillary Clinton. From Google/April 23, 2008.



Tuesday, December 16, 2008

I am Love, a thought-idea...

I am love

a thought-idea

I am love

Breathe

from in to out ...from out to in...

I am Love

I am Now ...the ever present moment

I am love

There is no there, there is only here

I am love

I am infinity, eternity expressed

I am love

In me white is black, black is white

I am love

I am rainbow's arrow

shooting kindness into the hearts of All

I am love

I am compassion

I am love

I am yearning realized

I am love

I am gratitude expressed

I am love

I am All in love, by love, with love...

I am restored beauty, never lost

I am love

I am gold thread in conflict, offering a way out

I am love

Ever-present love

I am tenderness, care,


the first green leaf of spring,


the resting hope of winter...

I am love

Look, only notice...see

I am love

You are love

We are love's perfection expressed

by our choice of love

You are love

You are Thy precious moment

You are love

We are thought ideas, unveiled as love

We are harmony's chimes caressed

by gentled wind

We are love

We are angelic visions, fragrantly blooming

We are love

We are love

I am love

You are love

All is love,

the safety-pin, fear dispersed, hope understood,

Love

Copywrite 2009 All Rights Reserved by Cynthia S. Pittmann

Saturday, November 15, 2008

I Write


I write. I wait. I write and I hope.

I write. I tell. I wait. I compose. I let go.

I reveal. I shame. I fight. I bore. I write.

I detail. I write. I read. I fix.

I throw up for gold. I strike nothing.


I write. I bore. I explain. I dig.

I empty. I cry. I cry. I swim.

I connect. I find. I write.

I write. I see. I write.

I draw faces on my eyes. I write.

I hurt. I hurt. I write. I anger. I write.

I pull. I grab. I force. I turn. I write.


I write until I stop. I toss away. I drop...

And still again, I write.

I write, bore, breathe, and write,

Every day.

Sometimes I can't bear myself.

My boring details, my insecurities.

But I don't hide anymore. I write.


I write to myself. I write to a face I see...

To someone who cares...who won't mind

My honesty or my mistakes.


I turn away from the judger, the criticizer

And write to someone else

Anyone else.


Unless I'm mad. In anger,

I'll take her on...that mean bit of

Me-she gets in the way.

I release. I write.

I routine. I write.

Copyright 2009 Cynthia S. Pittmann

Sunday, November 9, 2008

Cynthia's Bhakti Yoga Devotion (1996)

Love







I am love
a thought-idea
I am love
Breathe
from in to out ...from out to in...
I am Love

I am Now ...the ever present moment
I am love
There is no there, there is only here
I am love
I am infinity, eternity expressed
I am love

In me white is black, black is white
I am love
I am rainbow's arrow
shooting kindness into the hearts of All
I am love
I am compassion
I am love

I am yearning realized
I am love
I am gratitude expressed
I am love
I am All in love, by love, with love...

I am restored beauty, never lost
I am love
I am gold thread in conflict,
offering a way out
I am love
Ever-present love

I am tenderness, care,

the first green leaf of spring,

the resting hope of winter...I am love

Look, only notice...see
I am love
You are love
We are love's perfection expressed
by our choice of love

You are love
You are Thy precious moment
You are love
We are thought ideas, unveiled as love
We are harmony's chimes caressed
by gentled wind, we are love

We are angelic visions, fragrantly blooming
We are love
We are love
I am love
You are love
All is love,
the safety-pin, fear dispersed, hope understood,
Love

[Please click on the sidebar, OWL Playlist, and listen to Enya's Watermark while reading this poem.]