Wednesday, February 01, 2006
A Found Poem
This morning, while I was straightening my bedroom, I found this poem on the floor. I had no recollection of having written it, nor under what circumstances. But in truth I like it, and am glad it resurfaced after so many weeks. It has to do with the elusive quality of the Mystery, that which we constantly yearn for and pursue, and which sometimes grants us a fleeting, ghostlike glimpse.
Sudden and Disheveled
And then I am the wild teacher
rising up sudden and disheveled
from the desert floor.
Smoke and cloud shadows
pass overhead . . .
Am I a mirage
or a thing that is real?
Your eyes grow still and questioning . . . .
Am I still there?
Sometimes jeweled words
fall like petals
from my lips.
At others,
a senseless muttering,
a rambling of no sense.
But you keep listening,
straining to hear.
In the street,
I’ll wear a disguise,
a rag woman
or a Santa Claus
ringing a bell.
Don’t look at me
or say hello.
This is a secret
between us two.
Dorothy Walters
November 16, 2005
Sudden and Disheveled
And then I am the wild teacher
rising up sudden and disheveled
from the desert floor.
Smoke and cloud shadows
pass overhead . . .
Am I a mirage
or a thing that is real?
Your eyes grow still and questioning . . . .
Am I still there?
Sometimes jeweled words
fall like petals
from my lips.
At others,
a senseless muttering,
a rambling of no sense.
But you keep listening,
straining to hear.
In the street,
I’ll wear a disguise,
a rag woman
or a Santa Claus
ringing a bell.
Don’t look at me
or say hello.
This is a secret
between us two.
Dorothy Walters
November 16, 2005
