Shelter Journal
by Sara Shelton Mann
it’s when your shoes are filled with ice you know you took the wrong turn falling backwards and holding your breath, learning the piano you sit there steady with your young self and wait for the melody to arise your shoes fill with water and your fear turns to ice it's best to take the unknown road and begin again try the void point treat that child to enthusiasm, laughter, playfulness and the sweetest smile you’ve ever known if you are in the forest, climb a tree and watch your innocent self dig a hole and cover the “I am” with moss and leaves, wet ferns, and dried sticks it sometimes takes centuries to crawl out You can do it You remember the light of the sun washes you clean You remember the light of the sun washes you clean You remember yesterday- there’s a warp in the earth’s operating system even the tiny treasures have been extracted by revelants who have poured oil on top, lit the fuse and are now fighting over who did it or who wants it, while looking through a glass pane blindfolded, smelling flames that touch the sky I had a dream of a map with burn marks along the ridges of the mountains and I had to return North before the earthquakes came I had to return to the South to locate myself the beauty of extinction has tilted and like a boomerang will return with an agenda haunting cries of the loon pass over the still lakes in Maine pick me up on the side of the road, jumping, if you don’t see me, there are other ways to escape I know ten ways to get water from a stone: cry- there aren’t enough tears in the world to open a stone believe- you can lie until you believe it, and gather a multitude of unbelievers and turn them into believers start a cult- drink Kool aide, slowdown that kundalini—ice blue. wear white- I’ll know I’m crazy and you will be well open the earth—dive right in—you’ll burn up thus it doesn’t matter about the water or you could be a star—shine buy a fence and sit on it, pray for rain eat dirt at the moment, I imagine the sound comes through the house the house is upside down the people are ancient children righting the world as it should be for as it is now singing moves the feet and winds claim the heart silence is the forgotten metaphor for answers weight is the space between worlds I forgot to love you enough I listened to the voices lights up, let’s dance the polka
12-20-2020
Categories: Poetry, Poetry, shelter-in-place, The Second Wave