Yet another rewrite of "my subterranean back" poem. Not sure how the blogger subscription works as I reedited the previous post. Do the edits get sent out? Will still edit and tinker with it. This poem marks a statement, a turn. "We Must Call A Meeting" in The Woman Who Fell From the Sky, or was it In Mad Love and War, was such a poem. So was the "Fear Poem", also known as "I Give You Back". It signifies a regathering of spirit from the muck.
That's part of the process of creativity. It's rare that any creative work comes as is--even humans are constantly evolving, or some of us are--We know the ones who've given up, or given over to tv, movies and eating and sleeping. They've appear to have stopped in time and effort, though, you never know. It's so easy to judge and dismiss. Maybe they're redreaming the next move, working up the heart or courage to move forward, to forgive, to not feel defeated before even trying. I've noticed a direct relationship between sugar/carbo/grease and junkfood consumption with the need to zone out. Then there's the step before the need to eat too much of all that--and the step before that, and before that--and then we're back to the beginning of creation.
Some days I have given up. Making a human is the most difficult job of all. The animals, stones, plants, stars and planets know what to do. We fight, strive, strut proudly...deny and point to others failings. What always sets me back on track is the family of redbirds who've made a nest in the mango tree, the winds who live up in the Ko'olaus, or some other place in the real world that my spirit takes me for renewal, like a poem, a song, someone's bright eyes, or a great joke.
So keep it up.
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