Hearing and reading this poem took my breath away for a moment. Coming back to it, what I love on the page, is how the line breaks create that feeling of drifting within me, as I read and listen
I am struck too by how the poem captures both the feeling of being unmoored AND also held, when we surrender and trust we are carried
Thank you so much Toni, and especially thank you for helping me see the ‘also held’ - I hadn’t really been conscious of that part of the poem - it’s there. Ahh. Sometimes a small poem with lots of space around it allows a kind of contemplative silence.
There's such acuteness of eye here. The poem, and also the photo make vivid the unmooring, the loss of direction, or rather self-direction, because the stick, over time does move, and not randomly but held by wind and sea. Each part of this little triple work of art deepens the other two - your commentary (or maybe four part, the sad cadence of your voice) places the stick, water, and the play of the sun, in a framework of grief. Then you just let that stand. Restraint. Packs a real punch. Thank you.
Thank you so much Carolyn. The great gift of posting poetry on Substack is the generous return from your reading and comments. Interesting observations too about how the elements of the post work together. And, yes, held and moved by the wind and sea. Thank you.
Hearing and reading this poem took my breath away for a moment. Coming back to it, what I love on the page, is how the line breaks create that feeling of drifting within me, as I read and listen
I am struck too by how the poem captures both the feeling of being unmoored AND also held, when we surrender and trust we are carried
Thank you Kirstie
Thank you so much Toni, and especially thank you for helping me see the ‘also held’ - I hadn’t really been conscious of that part of the poem - it’s there. Ahh. Sometimes a small poem with lots of space around it allows a kind of contemplative silence.
There's such acuteness of eye here. The poem, and also the photo make vivid the unmooring, the loss of direction, or rather self-direction, because the stick, over time does move, and not randomly but held by wind and sea. Each part of this little triple work of art deepens the other two - your commentary (or maybe four part, the sad cadence of your voice) places the stick, water, and the play of the sun, in a framework of grief. Then you just let that stand. Restraint. Packs a real punch. Thank you.
Thank you so much Carolyn. The great gift of posting poetry on Substack is the generous return from your reading and comments. Interesting observations too about how the elements of the post work together. And, yes, held and moved by the wind and sea. Thank you.