The Swan

"The Swan" by Rainer Maria Rilke; translation by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows

 

This laboring of ours

with all that remains undone,

 as if still bound to it,

 is like the lumbering gait of the swan.

 

And then our dying—releasing ourselves

from the very ground on which we stood—

 is like the way he hesitantly

 lowers himself into the water.

 

 It gently receives him, and, gladly yielding,

flows back beneath him, as wave follows wave,

 while he, now wholly serene and sure,

with regal composure, allows himself to glide.

Let this Darkness be a Bell Tower

"Let This Darkness Be a Bell Tower" by Rainer Maria Rilke; translation by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows

 

Quiet friend who has come so far,

feel how your breathing makes more space around you.

Let this darkness be a bell tower

and you the bell. As you ring,

 

 

what batters you becomes your strength.

Move back and forth into the change.

What is it like, such intensity of pain?

If the drink is bitter, turn yourself to wine.

 

 

In this uncontainable night,

be the mystery at the crossroads of your senses,

the meaning discovered there.

 

 

And if the world has ceased to hear you,

say to the silent earth: I flow.

To the rushing water, speak: I am.

 

http://being.publicradio.org/programs/2010/wild-love-for-world/

Sister Outsider by Audre Lorde

It is necessary to teach by living and speaking those truths which we believe and know beyond understanding.  Because in this way alone we can survive, by taking part in a process of life that is creative and continuing, that is growth.

And it is never without fear—of visibility, of the harsh light of scrutiny and perhaps judgment, of pain, of death.  But we have lived through all of those already in silence, except death.  And I remind myself all the time now that if I were to have been born mute, or had maintained an oath of silence my whole life long for safety, I would still have suffered, and I would still die. It is very good for establishing perspective.

And where the words of women are crying to be heard, we must each of us recognize our responsibility to seek those words out, to read them and share them and examine them in their pertinence to our lives.  That we not hide behind the mockeries of separations that have been imposed upon us and which so often we accept as our own.

We have been socialized to respect fear more than our own needs for language and definition, and while we wait in silence for that final luxury of fearlessness, the weight of that silence will choke us.

The fact that we are here and that I speak these words is an attempt to break that silence and bridge some of those differences between us, for it is not difference which immobilizes us, but silence.  And there are so many silences to be broken.

Lorde, Audre. (1984). Sister Outsider.  (p. 43-44). Berkley, CA: The Crossing Press.

Fragile Ties

Fragile Ties

By Teri VanL.ieshout

2/14/2005

For my husband, Josh, with love

Spider’s web
And silken thread
Soft and fragile
They can break with a whisper
Or in woven strength
Hold like girders of steel.

Our hearts are bound
In the magical thread
Of trust, hope, honesty
Patience, forgiveness,
Laughter, resilient warmth
And compassion.

Love

In the cocoon of marriage
Is our shelter
Our strength
And our foremost labor.

To tend to these fragile ties
That can break in isolation
Or, in union,
Bear the insurmountable weight of the world,

To tend to these fragile ties
Is a foundation
For a rich life
Shared with each other,
Our children,
And our children’s children,

Building a legacy
That can span generations
Made first of intimate love,
Blossoming into creative service
That can go far beyond
Our individual lives
To benefit the world.

I give you my affection
My respect, my support,

My love

The best of me

To share in this tender union
That is our life together
And is a reflection of the Eternal
So gently placed
In the silken framework
Of our hearts.

I wrote this for Josh a few years ago. And back then, I didn’t know how much we’d face together even in 5 short years. As we grow in our marriage, I can say the love grows stronger and the respect grows deeper. My husband loves well, even when I’m far from perfect. And I hope I reflect that back to him, too. Truly blessed. I love you so much, Josh. You’re the best!!

Neonatology by Elizabeth Alexander

Giving birth is like jazz, something from silence,
then all of it. Long, elegant boats,
blood-boiling sunshine, human cargo,
a handmade kite —

                                 Postpartum.
No longer a celebrity, pregnant lady, expectant.
It has happened; you are here,
each dram you drain a step away
from flushed and floating, lush and curled.
Now you are the pink one, the movie star.
It has happened. You are here,

and you sing, mewl, holler, peep,
swallow the light and bubble it back,
shine, contain multitudes, gleam. You

are the new one, the movie star,
and birth is like jazz,
from silence and blood, silence
then everything,

jazz.

by Elizabeth Alexander, from her latest book
"Crave Radiance" page 143 (excerpt from 153)

Fecund Offering (a revision)

By Teri VanLieshout
original 3/5/97, this version 1/25/11

Love is not
       like magnified

It is showing appreciation
     for life
       through commitment
    to others
           and shared vision of what is good

Experiencing joy
   comes with
     sharing
         life’s good work
                                        together

Hard work
   strengthens calm

Peace comes
  in the wake
     of a steady push forward
 
Comfort
   is satisfaction
     in knowing you’ve done your best

Souls are kept
   by passing love on,
     sharing in the triumphs and pitfalls of life

      fecund offering

Go to the Limits of your Longing by Ranier Maria Rilke, translated by Joanna Macy and Anita Barrows

God speaks to each of us as he makes us,
 then walks with us silently out of the night.These are the words we dimly hear:
You, sent out beyond your recall
go to the limits of your longing.
Embody me.
Flare up like a flame
and make big shadows I can move in.
Let everything happen to you:
 beauty and terror. Just keep going.
No feeling is final.
Don't let yourself lose me. Nearby is the country they call life.
You will know it by its seriousness.
Give me your hand.Book of Hours, I 59

Praise Song for the Day by Elizabeth Alexander

"Praise Song for the Day"
by Elizabeth Alexander 
Each day we go about our business,
walking past each other, catching each other's
eyes or not, about to speak or speaking.

 All about us is noise. All about us is
noise and bramble, thorn and din, each
one of our ancestors on our tongues.

 Someone is stitching up a hem, darning
a hole in a uniform, patching a tire,
repairing the things in need of repair.

 Someone is trying to make music somewhere,
with a pair of wooden spoons on an oil drum,
with cello, boom box, harmonica, voice.

 A woman and her son wait for the bus.
A farmer considers the changing sky.
A teacher says, Take out your pencils. Begin.

 We encounter each other in words, words
spiny or smooth, whispered or declaimed,
words to consider, reconsider.

 We cross dirt roads and highways that mark
the will of some one and then others, who said
I need to see what's on the other side.

 I know there's something better down the road.
We need to find a place where we are safe.
We walk into that which we cannot yet see.

 Say it plain: that many have died for this day.
Sing the names of the dead who brought us here,
who laid the train tracks, raised the bridges,

 picked the cotton and the lettuce, built
brick by brick the glittering edifices
they would then keep clean and work inside of.

 Praise song for struggle, praise song for the day.
Praise song for every hand-lettered sign,
the figuring-it-out at kitchen tables.

 Some live by love thy neighbor as thyself,
others by first do no harm or take no more
than you need. What if the mightiest word is love?

 Love beyond marital, filial, national,
Love that casts a widening pool of light,
love with no need to pre-empt grievance.

 In today's sharp sparkle, this winter air,
any thing can be made, any sentence begun.
On the brink, on the brim, on the cusp,

praise song for walking forward in that light.

Kitchenette Building by Gwendolyn Brooks

"Kitchenette Building"
by Gwendolyn Brooks

 We are things of dry hours and the involuntary plan,
Grayed in, and gray. "Dream" makes a giddy sound, not strong
Like "rent," "feeding a wife," "satisfying a man."

 But could a dream send up through onion fumes
Its white and violet, fight with fried potatoes
And yesterday's garbage ripening in the hall,
Flutter, or sing an aria down these rooms

 Even if we were willing to let it in,
Had time to warm it, keep it very clean,
Anticipate a message, let it begin?

 We wonder. But not well! not for a minute!
Since Number Five is out of the bathroom now,
We think of lukewarm water, hope to get in it.

Time

Time
by Teri VanLieshout
5/24/11

Time
A river I chase
Running alongside
With bare feet
And painted toes

I wade in shallow pools
Catching treasures in jars
To save
And set free
  Later

And I stand on the bank
Where the rapids run
Wanting to jump
Suspended in the mist
  Catching you with both hands

Meandering river
Rushing river
Your course, your aim
Through my fingers and painted toes
Never standing still

Five Minute Poem

5 minute poem
By Teri VanLieshout
3/3/10

walls half painted
lists of things-to-do
on half-sheets of paper
everywhere

eggs on the counter
dish-filled-sink
dirty egg beaters
baby rocking on her chair

nursing baby,
fussy baby
"momma up,"
hanging on my leg

bible study --  genesis
bad girls need their reading too
plus the lenten reader
oh my, bible sure is getting used

news is on
big girl dancing
laundry waiting
on the bed

more to do,
so little time
so much to do
my aching head

(the life of a mom--
written in about 5 minutes, between tasks,)

Sisters in Spirit

by Teri VanLieshout
February 2005

My sisters
Generation to generation
Across time and distance
Sing to my spirit,
Giving my soul a place to be nourished and grow.

With gratitude I wake
To see the new light of each day.
Starting in solitude
And going to a place
Of community and family.

You are my touchstones.
In each turn of life
that brings my spirit to yours,
I learn more about
what it means to be
a woman,
a daughter,
a mother,
a wife,
a friend,
a teacher,
a citizen of this world.

In our sisterhood,
We are the life-blood of this planet,
Bringing wisdom and love,
Hope and joy,
Laughter,
Dignity in sorrow and grief,
Bravery,
Leadership,
Strength,
Courage,
And compassion,

To the places of our own,
Our families,
Our communities,
And the quietest part of ourselves,
Which is the interface between this world
And the next.

It is in our friendships
And the cherished places where we meet each other
That we feed the purest part of ourselves,
That becomes the woman
Who meets the word.

It is with gratitude
That I greet the dawn of each day,
And give thanks for
My sisters in spirit,
Who brighten my life.

Hi from Teri

Hi.  I am Teri, and I like to write poetry. It's not all good. It's not all bad. It may not be high art, but it gives me joy. Read or comment if you like. It is my space to play.