Sunday, July 09, 2006


Photo by S. Auberle

After all the travels of the last few weeks,
it feels good to be in a quiet place. My soul
gets frazzled. And I'm suffering withdrawal
symptoms from not writing or reading poetry.
It's exciting seeing new places, being in the
midst of lots of people, but I need peace in

As usual, till my own words come, I rely on
other's words. This is part of a poem entitled
"It Happens to Those Who Live Alone." from
"The House of Belonging" by David Whyte:

I have my freedom
nothing really happened

and nobody came
to see me.
Only the slow
growing of the garden
in the summer heat

and the silence of that
unborn life
making itself
known at my desk

my hands
dark with the
crumbling soil
as I write
and watch

the first lines
of a new poem,
like flowers
of scarlet fire
coming to fullness
in a new light.

Life blooms in silence.

- mimi


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