Sunday, October 29, 2017

The Muse as She Whispers in My Ear

Here in the center of the world, I lean against warm adobe, let the Southwest sunshine sink through skin, into bones until all my cells are simply the light again. The Muse has been visiting me in my dreams, encountering me in the natural world and I am alive with vision and rhyme. 

The world waits for us to take the risk to sing in our one true voice- and when we do a healing echoes back to us, sometimes in a poem. 


All Poets—

Begin again with discipline,
with commitment to page and pen,
to that harrowing journey
of the written word ridden
like Crow’s wings
into the nebulous hollow
of the unknown.

Invite tryst, discourse, happenchance,
acquire the hard earned treasures derived
from staring into the bareness of the Void
—when no one else can bear it—

craft your words like stars,
invent new constellations
that twinkle and shine,
there for all who look
up.

-Renee Podunovich, 2017
Dolores, CO, USA