Monday, April 18, 2022

Spring Cleaning in The Year of Crystal Fire, Easter 2022

 


It is so good to be sixty-four. My daughter sang me the Beatles' song on the beach, with ukulele, delightful belated birthday gifts during all too rare family encounter. We live too far apart, I do not like calling, the phone traumatized me when I was just four year old - that black box on the wall is my aunt? And the fear persisted, reducing my conversations to 20 seconds - what do you need? Which street corner should I drive up to pick you up? Do I need to stop to buy bread and milk? This sort of thing, not thoughtful, insightful conversations... These are best done in person, in a dialog of souls, during random meetings at poetry readings, champagne lunches, on the beach... 


We had a lovely event in our community, Passing of the Laurels to the next Poet Laureate of Sunland Tujunga. My term as PL no. 6 was in 2010-2012; this time Pamela Shea passed the laurels to Alice Pero, both accomplished, graceful, insightful poets.  


I brought real laurel leaves in bouquets for poets, and huge artichoke leaves in bouquet of silk flowers, to decorate the stage. Looked pretty enough,  they danced in the breeze, making silk blossom seem alive and real. I picked all these leaves and branches from a friend's garden, where I was amazed at the sight of the artichoke plant which made me think of poetry. I told a friend, poet about this experience, and a poem came about. Here it is.





An Artichoke of a Poem


Writing poetry is like growing 

artichokes, from a seed of invention,

the code for the unknown, sprouts

an immense plant, with spreading 

silvery-green fronds of tender beauty – 

poem after poem you spin out and admire,

so proud of your way with words,

constructing verbal edifices

with arduous labor.


The heart comes at the end – 

a flower bud no larger than your palm

that does not even open before you pick it  

to steam and taste bits of elegance 

and sophistication.


Hight above your silver tower of gigantic 

soft and spiky leaves – a paradox of a plant, 

really, its purpose beyond comprehension –

grows just one artichoke, a golden bud 

of a poem where each word is in its place,

each insight so accurate and keen,

it pierces the reader’s mind 

with knowing. 


You discard abundant, decorative

leaves for compost, to nourish next year’s crop –

just one gourmet treat, an artichoke of a poem, 

blooming from so many ornamental words 

you string together day after day, until 

the mystery 

          reveals itself

                   to surprise you

                           with its inevitable

                                      simple grace –

  


  

Well, that was insightful enough for the Poet Laureate of Artichokes and Bay Leaves (another name for Laurels).. .  Celebration took a lot longer to organize than to experience. Then it was time to continue the internal dialogue on paper, in a dialog with old, discarded selves.  Spring cleaning is good for that.  




Spring Cleaning


This morning

I declawed the cactus, cut the spikes 

from the tips of agave leaves

so they do not scratch children looking for 

chocolate eggs on Easter.


I cleaned out the pantry, sorted out 

one bookshelf and my past

carefully discarding useless fears

and fading disappointments. 

I filled the crystal bird dish 

with water for finches, filled my heart 

with affection and delight


I arranged lilacs, and daffodils 

into fragrant bouquets, green with 

camellia leaves and palm fronds left over 

from singing Hosanna in the church.

I arranged mt thoughts

Into a singular clarity of purpose

Tranquil lie the pacific at sunset

With tenderness of immense strength.


Now, I only have to breathe in 

noon light, to set old pain, 

anger and resentment on fire

expel the ashes in a shower of sparks

with diamond rays so brilliant 

they make me into a supernova

a revelation, cosmic, bright –



Cleaning is necessary and healing. The "cleaning" of past emotions and traumas is done once they do no longer hurt, are not painful, just there, fondly remembered, examined and set aside on a shelf of  favorite things - ornamental crystal spheres, a mosaic flower vase from Ravenna, a wooden angel from Krakow, a gold and cobalt teacup and saucer of my Mom, children's photos and music boxes.  So, after a long, long, long love story, I could finally write its coda. 






The Year of Crystal Fire


Soft patter of pink rose petals 

falling onto the floor. The scent of French Perfume 

in the air. The heartbeat  stops. The world ceases its rotations.


I see the light in your eyes shining

through the slit in your motorcycle helmet,

as you pass me on the street. In a millisecond

of recognition you take me in – whole, 

serene in turquoise and aqua – then, you look away

far into the past we shared so shamelessly,

beyond measure – 

the year of passion

the year of dogs that brought us together

the year of longing

the year of dolphins dancing on salty waves 

the year of absence

the year of waiting in darkness – 

                      30-second phone calls answered by a machine

         the year of tiger lilies

         the year of nine-tailed foxes – 

                       smooth with seduction and delight


Yes, I liked that year the most – 

as we grew into our demonic, daimonic selves,

created new galaxies, parallel universes 

out of our other-worldly love.


Timelines shift.

The cosmic windows 

keep opening and closing.

Soft patter of pink rose petals 

on the flying carpet 

takes me into

the year of passion

the year of tiger lilies

the year of diamond kites soaring above hilltops

the year of stardust

the year of crystal fire



Remember that our emotions create the world we live in, if I project anger, hurt, resentment, disappointment, regret out to the universe, its cosmic mirror will reflect all these back, so I will get even more reason to feel anger, hurt, resentment, disappointment and regret... But if I project joy, serenity, gratitude and love, I'll be surrounded by even more reasons - people, events, unexpected gifts from cosmos to feel more joy, serenity, gratitude, love. My heart will expand and open. I'll be happy. This "pursuit of happiness" is a guaranteed right in America. How sweet!




Flying kites on the beach and in the mountains:


Redondo Beach, California
https://youtu.be/otEVtfnbOGM (Kite Festival)

Mandalay Beach, Oxnard, California 
Three Kites high up in the clouds: https://youtu.be/foOY2QZmRBc
Three Kites, continued: https://youtu.be/lan3bq45A9s

Hermosa Beach, dancing kites, soaring high above:
https://youtu.be/g6XXJTEu7t0 Three kites in Hermosa Beach
https://youtu.be/sdmvgIIlyfY Three kites in Hermosa Beach
https://youtu.be/OB27nE1uFIs Swirling Circle in Hermosa Beach

Kites in Angeles National Forest mountains, Rim of the Valley Trail:
Diamond Butterfly: https://youtu.be/ddCJsAOOGlc (strong wind, unstable)
Flying Diamond: https://youtu.be/EveaI9O8Qsk (blue skies)
Swirling Circle: https://youtu.be/9C3p-KhHnOU (above hills)
Delta Sharkie: https://youtu.be/YJuFji99JY8 (chemtrail stripes)
Laughing Dolphin 1: https://youtu.be/BtXErYfMxuE (skies with chemtrails)
Laughing Dolphin 2: https://youtu.be/-Vj7DEXVZSs (skies with chemtrails)
Laughing Dolphin 3: https://youtu.be/_i2HaGGGoyU (blue skies, one stripe)
Laughing Dolphin 4: https://youtu.be/wsv8V77H4gc (in sunlight)
Laughing Dolphin 5: https://youtu.be/uZOdkTaqTts (dancing around the moon)











1 comment:

  1. Pleasant site for the beginning of this new day. More crystal fire poems please

    ReplyDelete