for Chris
There’s something about you that makes my heart hum
With what Whitman calls “life”
What Cummings calls puddle-wonder
and becoming “who you really are”
Something about your eyes, playing stars in your head
Or maybe your hands, rough and large
But it isn’t any Thing at all, really
My heart hums with you
Even if I try to ignore the hum, push it out
I can’t pass this stranger by, this knowing
This love
That does not burn, but rather builds up
That does not consume, but rather grows slow
Curls into the sun like peas, smells sweet like tomatoes
The poets were right: noticing is love
Anguish is love too, but much less full of hum
I am to see to it that I do not lose you.
The Human Poet 
I don’t know if comments go public? As I luxuriate further in your writing, how fresh, immediate, intimate many moments that you pluck from time unspooling: your writing captivates me. In addition, I feel included, privileged to peek at a moment of yours–and how you immortalize it. And then another moment!
Because of the therapies that I have been studying (IFS and formerly PAP), I notice with appreciation how you toggle in and out of your mind chatter, observing it and harvesting what coheres, yet (when younger) getting stranded there as you learned, allowing lessons in. And then you are toggled back again, writing from being grounded in your body, in a very present moment. (Suddenly I am reminded of a line in psalm 46; if one read it and substituted “creating” for God: Creating is our refuge and our strength, a very present help in times of trouble. . . . Creating is within her, she will not fail. . . . Be S T I L L ” I appreciate you!
LikeLike
Yes! Comments are public. I am so in love with the way you paid attention to what I wrote. Thank you for being so aware of what I was saying and how I said it. I’m so grateful for that. It’s rare for someone to read with their whole being.
I think the toggling is what is so frustrating. But so necessary. We can never stay in the observation place, can we?
I think the psalm works itself out in my life, but ONLY IF I ALLOW MYSELF TO BE STILL. Otherwise I’m just on the hamster wheel, unable to create anything, even love. Miss you. -Siena
LikeLike