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| Kettle's Yard |
across the cortex of my eyes
My humors break, and make
pictures, dancing shadows, light.
Sunbeams shaft
through Winter's green
and bare brown leaves
I pass through rooms, a silent ghost
gathering dreams.
Bare feet and cloudy sight
half whole and half unknown
My hair a mess of springy curls
My pen, my soul, at home.
(I have been unwell for days. Except for the candle flame of your love and comments, I have been a shadow of myself, a camouflage of the grey January rain outside. Today, though, the sun poured through the house, spotlighting the tidy rooms, the air of celebration my brother has created in honour of the arrival of our house guest, his girlfriend, who is on a flight from Malaysia as I write. Welcome home Angelina!)
very sorry to hear you are not feeling well. I hope for many days ahead of sunshine for you.
ReplyDeleteShaista, a small package is winging its way to you now...and soon the book will arrive. I am sorry you are well. CALL THAT SPECIALIST and tell him you NEED the treatment and without it you are too unwell. GRRRRRRR. I might just have to fly across the ocean on my broom and smack him upside the head.
ReplyDeleteShaista, I love that you have a lovely home and loving family around you. So wonderful.
My beloved fourteen year old wolf-pup companion died last night. I cant believe how empty and quiet this house is without him. He took up a lot of space as he had Personality Plus. In other words, he was a beloved handful. I posted his story today - you might enjoy it.
Take good care of yourself, kiddo. I am so happy Angelina is heading your way.
Am thinking of you. Sherry
Whisking off some well wishing and prayers for healing to you, Shaista, from here in Spain.
ReplyDeleteNo, no, nooooo, do not be unwell, it is not permitted. :) I'll echo Sherry's comment, "GRRRRRR" and get that treatment at all possible cost!
ReplyDeleteI think on Kettle's Yard often, I am afraid I didn't pause enough, soak enough, see enough. I revisit it now in memory, each room, the chair left pulled out from the desk, the spiral of stones, the etched glass pieces hanging that we desperately copied, sought after their meanings...like so many things.
A guest, especially a beloved one, is good medicine.
ReplyDeleteThe poem is exquisite.
You are living poetry.
ReplyDeleteAloha from Waikiki
Comfort Spiral
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May the beauty around you sooth and heal you. Many warm and healing breaths to you across the deep water. Love.
ReplyDeleteDear Shaista,
ReplyDeleteHope you are feeling better, love!
happy, happy, happy days!!!! :D
ReplyDeletewhat's next? black swan? ;)