Tasting the scent of root,
I become the sea.
There is an art to this.
A vast interiority
makes me curious. Barefoot
all day, I remember
my alignment with the tides.
I attend to the patterned world
beyond the dichotomies
of the question.
This is no easy task. Crickets
call to the East.
Who knows
when a walkabout
begins?
©Laura Sorrells 2010
some rights reserved
I wrote this found poem in 2010 using Laura Sewall's amazing and compelling book Sight and Sensibility: the Ecopsychology of Seeing. I had lost the notebook I wrote it in and only found it the other day. I am excited about this, because it's full of things I wrote that I thought I might never see again.
I become the sea.
There is an art to this.
A vast interiority
makes me curious. Barefoot
all day, I remember
my alignment with the tides.
I attend to the patterned world
beyond the dichotomies
of the question.
This is no easy task. Crickets
call to the East.
Who knows
when a walkabout
begins?
©Laura Sorrells 2010
some rights reserved
I wrote this found poem in 2010 using Laura Sewall's amazing and compelling book Sight and Sensibility: the Ecopsychology of Seeing. I had lost the notebook I wrote it in and only found it the other day. I am excited about this, because it's full of things I wrote that I thought I might never see again.
How joyful for the words to no longer be lost
ReplyDeleteYes. very.
ReplyDelete