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Ignition

July 20, 2021

Ignition

By Amba Gale

“Pick up your pen and write,” she says,
  that wise and ancient Voice: the devoted Muse,
speaking to me in the grey morning, white
  ball of sun
  in the sky,
in the water, below.

Below,
where the surface conversation has long since disappeared,
I ask a private question: “Of what shall I write?”

“Anything you hear in the deep well of your own heart.”

“Write about the loon mourning the days away.
Write about the turtle who belongs
    in the pond among the lilies.
Write about a world of wonders.
Write about me, who will always encourage
        you to find me,
                to find your self
                through these beautiful
                    white pages in your lap,
                through the warmth and smell of the tea
                    you drink every morning
                    attending to it smoothing through your body
                through the grey soothing sea below
                    your window carrying the splashing sparks of the sun
                    dancing         dancing         dancing
                through your
                                          Love
                                                    Of
                                                            Life.
                May you meet yourself.
                There, may you be delightfully surprised by who you find.”

 

Additional Poetry

October 12, 2021

Ignition

“Pick up your pen and write,” she says,  that wise and ancient Voice: the devoted Muse, speaking to me in the grey morning, white  ball of sun  in the sky, in the water, below. Below, where the surface conversation has long since disappeared, I ask a private question: “Of what shall I write?” “Anything you hear in the deep well of your own heart.” “Write about the loon mourning the days away. Write about the turtle who belongs   in the pond among the lilies. Write about a world of wonders. Write about me, who will always encourage    you to find…

September 27, 2021

Patience

Hello, Great Blue! You, who walk so stealthily, so faithfully, so gracefully, so quietly, on your long, lanky, legs, looking, waiting for your first, tasty morsel from the sea, yellowing sea. Good morning, Great Blue, Long Necked Warrior of the Morning birds, you, who work so attentively alertly, keen for your morning fish. looking outwards toward the rising, brightening, sun. Do you watch for the sun to rise? Are you single pointedly moving towards the exact place where the fish meet your beak? This is the way I want to awaken each day, saying hello to the wild world before…

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