Loved this prompt! And thank you for it! I appreciate the variety of prompts that you have given us thus far. Amazing fuel for inspiration. And I loved your ekphratic interpretation of the painting. Obviously, I ready yours, but I purposely did not look at any other responses because I did not want to be influenced. (followed your offered suggestion). Also trains have an endearing quality for me. Having traveled all through Europe on them. And Bob Barker is a cutie!
Your poem feels so whimsical and playful to me . . . as if you're viewing the train with the enthusiasm and wonder of a child, coupled with the wisdom of your adult self. It's so fun to read everyone's really different experiences with the painting!
Ditto on what A. has already said - what a treat and trip to see how we intersect and depart from each other in terms of poetic interpretation of the visual art. And now I see more clearly why you said we shared the white flag and surrender this time ; )
This is sweet, Julie. The poem holds togetther so beauitfullu well. These middle lines "Here I stand watching. Life’s seemly linear direction rolling down the rails. Flowing from past to future. Coming and going. Tracks leading to and from sights unseen and unknown." And the last liens "Here I stand in surrender. Waving my white flag. Did I miss the train?
Is life passing me by? Or maybe…It’s a simple letting go to this colorful landscape of the moment…." A marvelous poem of tenderness, whimsical joy and poigant observance. Your lovely poem had me thinking of a wonderful song by Jennifer Kimball and Tom Kimmel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=987iPhplnO0
What a fun prompt! I wasn't sure how to feel about the painting at first, and it was a really cool experience to sit with it and keep noticing new things/ideas. I was really interested in the shadowy train in the foreground vs. seemingly untroubled world in the background, along with the witness.
This is haunting and vivid and beautiful! I love how it leaves me wondering and imagining about the witness. The ending lines "your grief / is the purest thing / in sight" are so powerful.
I love reading your take on this, Rebekah. "Crayola-toned" is such a brilliant way to capture the color scape of this painting. "Your grief is the purest thing in sight" hit me right in the heart.
I am loving all the different ways we can see a painting! I also saw the contrast with the more dark and light, shadowy and colorful - like you so poetically described here. And the "grief is the purest thing in sight." I see and feel that through the eyes of your poem. When I did mine, I saw the painting through the lens of my love for trains. Fascinating, how this exercise brings us to the same painting but we all see it uniquely. Thank you for your piece to the puzzle!
I love this take on the painting, Rebekah! This, coupled with the idea of the industrial society and the hurried pull that were highlighted in other poems, feels like an allegory for capitalism. The cheap, artificial feel of "Crayola-toned, cheerful" juxtaposed with "a monster most don't have to witness" is excellent. "Your grief is the purest thing in sight" feels so true of our world right now, and it makes me feel seen.
How beautiful Rebekah! The last lines are especially magical! “You are above the fall line, alone with a monster most don’t have to witness, let alone define. Your grief is the purest things in sight.” Oh my, this is tender, piercing and priceless.
Lisa, your ekphratic interpretation of Railway in Murnau was lovely and hopeful. Mine, not so much hopeful! But hey, what comes out, comes out. And here is what came out (but before that, I have nothing ekphratic to offer about the photo of BB, just awe and reverence for the power of the puppy, which I fully believe should be capable of curing all sorts of ills of the soul. Okay. Here is my poem about the Railway in Murnau, straight from the catacombs of my psyche:
“Runaway mental mania express” - I love how this wording captures the feeling of being stuck in my head. Maybe your poem isn’t especially hopeful, but it sure is relatable!
Hmmm reading your poem again, it has me thinking about how our individual too-busy, left-hemisphere-dominant brains are a microcosm of the wider culture and of the industrializd world that’s grown from our manic minds. But then there’s such a feedback loop there - the world reflects our minds, which shape the world, which shapes our thoughts, which shape the world, which. . . . Ahhhhh! Help me off this train, Keith!
Yes, exactly! When I saw the black, shadowy train and its adjacent power lines - the trappings of industrialized progress - juxtaposed with the sunny, bucolic scene, it seemed a metaphor for the way in which my thinking tears through an otherwise peaceful inner landscape, spewing pollution of all sorts. If I figure a way to get off the train, I'll certainly grab you to jump with me!
Another beautiful spoken word type offering from you, Keith! I read it through silently a couple times, but the third time out loud is where I found its full power. This is a lot like how I saw the painting, too -- simultaneously cheerful and ominous, and with one lone witness to the apparent contradiction. I love the idea of "white handkerchief flagging / surrender."
Thanks, Rebekah...simultaneously cheerful and ominous...so apt! I was really intrigued by the lone witness with her white handkerchief. I would love to know more about whether she was in the painter's mind's eye all along, or if she organically appeared after the landscape was fully manifested.
This poem feels like a rush, with the lines getting longer, continually chugging forward. I love your use of rhyme, especially the less expected internal rhyming.
Thanks, A - so interesting to hear you reflect back the rushing effect created by the line length - totally unconscious on my part!! Poetry is truly magical.
It could definitely be just the way I read it, but I liked how the format seemed to complement the content. I love when things like that happen unintentionally.
Yep, the "runaway mental mania express." The "train of thought." Right there with you trudging and chugging down the rails, till the white flag goes up in surrender. That is the commonality we share today, the white handkerchief and surrender!
I like this Keith, and your wonderful use of train in such beautifully contrasting ways. The power and force of a train, ultimately of not as much resistance to the "runaway mental mania express." This is such a thoughtful, yearning and honest description of the times. What tremendous writing, Keith!
I love this Keith. I really enjoy how you begin with the train of thought and keep the parallel tracks of metaphorical train with real train chugging forward. The runaway mental mania express is wisdom and genius, and so piecing and percetive. Yuor poem looks at a painting and uses that as inspiration to create a beauitful and lyrical testimony on the world we live in and the lives we lead.
Thank you, Larry - the painting really seemed to lend itself as a metaphor for those things. I would love to know what the painter's trains of thought were in rendering it.
Thank you Lisa for introducing a word and a writing form to me. I had never even heard the word "Ekphrastic" before!
I used a painting in our bedroom which we have had for a long time. It is a beautifully painted landscape of the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia as it meets the Roanoke Valley to the south, surrounded by the Blue Ridge mountains on the east, the Allegheny ridges to the west, all a part of the Appalachian range. VIrginia is my home state and I lived in these mountains for almost 10 years in college and afterwards, a sort of sacred ground for me.
This somewhat murky poem emerged, I edited it some, but it was stubborn and I stopped trying.
What a beautiful poem! I'm glad it stubbornly refused to be anything other than itself. The line "before breath there was silence" captivated me completely.
This poem is so beautifully rooted in place. I was grateful for your introduction where you set up the landscape for us — how the valleys and mountains all come together. My brain really likes those larger visuals & it grounded me for the poem itself… which was divine! I loved the reverent quality of it, ancient rocks and songs and voices hiding in plain sight it seems, perceived only by special folks like you. “Even the angels get lost here from time to time” — yes! I haven’t been in the Shenandoah Valley for many years but your poem really pulled me there. Would love to see the painting, too!
This may have been stubborn Larry, but you have corralled it into a beautiful poem. I really appreciated the recursion of circularity, and some of the lines really grabbed me "Even the angels get lost here from time to time." Dare I say, this sounds like a thin space? My parents lived the last 6 years of their lives in a facility in Staunton, VA and I am familiar with this area from many trips taken there during those years. It is a beautiful valley...those blue hazed ridges are ethereal.
A thin place and space for sure! I have had many mystical experiences in the Shenadnoah and Roanoke Valleys and the mountains of Virginia, North Carolina and West Virginia. Though I grew up on the Virginia coast in Virginia Beach, when I got to the mountains at 18 when I went to college, I knew I was home. I know Staunton well, my college was only thirty minuites from there and my brother lived and taught in Charlottesville, Va. for many years. Thank you for always reading with such clarity and insight.
Ah, I see that you and Chuck both went to JMU. I took my son to visit JMU back in 2016, but he ended up going to/graduating from George Mason. I lived in Northern VA for many years before moving to New England. Central VA really is such beautiful terrain. I don't know that I've ever been to coastal VA (strange!).
JMU was a magical place for me, in part because of the beautiful land, water and sky scapes. Geroge Mason is a good school as well and I ahve many dear friends in Northern Virginia. The coastal area of Virginia and North Carolina are beautiful even as they pounded by storms and the endless rush of development. Blessings to you, Keith!
I'm glad you had that magical experience, Larry. Hearing about it reminds me of the late great John O'Donoghue's poetry capturing the way in which humans fall deeply in love with landscapes. Me too. Blessings back at you!
I am seeing and feeling your painting Larry, through the poetic description of your poem. I get an ancestral feel to it along with an ageless one. A longing to go back in time, yet instead bringing the wise voices from long ago forward. "Now the song begins to emerge, At last, ready to be heard."
Lisa, I love your poemic response to the painting. The part about hurry pulling the shadow felt so apt. I tend to struggle with feeling much of anything about art when I feel like I'm supposed to, so I wrote exclusively in response to Bob Barker, because his sweet face definitely gave me feelings.
A, I love this! I'm sitting here right now with Bob Barker on my lap to keep him from eating the power cords at my feet. He is such a sweet little rascal -- and earnest! -- and your poem perfectly captures this.
I love that you just let this curious eavesdrop move through you into the world! My mind is busily imagining what might have gone down at that fuckin' ballgame.
Very nice, Chuck. I love the lines "she gets so close. It scares me. She diesn't talk much about it. She doesn't talk much at all anymore." Ah, coffee inspired genius!
I am so late to this thread!!! Last week was hectic and I was back in the anxiety stress ball hole again :) But I came to say hello to the handsome Bob Barker and will spend some time getting caught up on everyone's responses!
There’s no such thing as late here. We all just arrive when we arrive! I’m glad you’re here today and hope there’s a doggy in your life to help chase down that anxiety stress ball and hide it away in the couch cushions for a bit. ❤️
There are two actually piled on top of me now - one of whom I just had to drug because it is raining here. Worst emotional support animal ever - lol! But seriously, I am better now because I wound up my job last week (I can't remember what I've written where but my boss died and we had to close our office). Anyway....back to the subject at hand.
This reminds me somewhat of the practice of Visio Divina - using sacred art to enter into prayer. Your poem resonated with me because I often feel like I am waiting for something to begin and now that I am at an actual place of beginning again, I hardly know where to start! But I will figure it out....
Karri, your presence is a blessing whenever you contribute, and your spirit is here always. What transitions and challenges you are navigating. I am glad you made it through the closing of the office and moviung through grief snd loss, change and antivipstion, and the anxiety and uncertainty that are often hovering. Thinking of you and sending light and blessings. Thank you for being such a dear light for us!
Loved this prompt! And thank you for it! I appreciate the variety of prompts that you have given us thus far. Amazing fuel for inspiration. And I loved your ekphratic interpretation of the painting. Obviously, I ready yours, but I purposely did not look at any other responses because I did not want to be influenced. (followed your offered suggestion). Also trains have an endearing quality for me. Having traveled all through Europe on them. And Bob Barker is a cutie!
.
Here I stand in anticipation.
Shaking my white kerchief,
is it hello or goodbye?
All aboard or debarking?
Or encouraging the
engineer to toot the whistle!
.
Here I stand watching.
Life’s seemly linear direction
rolling down the rails.
Flowing from past to future.
Coming and going.
Tracks leading to and from
sights unseen and unknown.
.
Here I stand in surrender.
Waving my white flag.
Did I miss the train?
Is life passing me by?
Or maybe…
It’s a simple letting go to
this colorful landscape
of the moment….
Your poem feels so whimsical and playful to me . . . as if you're viewing the train with the enthusiasm and wonder of a child, coupled with the wisdom of your adult self. It's so fun to read everyone's really different experiences with the painting!
Ditto on what A. has already said - what a treat and trip to see how we intersect and depart from each other in terms of poetic interpretation of the visual art. And now I see more clearly why you said we shared the white flag and surrender this time ; )
There you are!!!
don't get too close.
I'll make some tea.
I love this interpretation, Julie! It's so cool to see how everyone thinks about the same artwork.
I know right! I just said the same thing when I commented on Rebekah's poem.
This is sweet, Julie. The poem holds togetther so beauitfullu well. These middle lines "Here I stand watching. Life’s seemly linear direction rolling down the rails. Flowing from past to future. Coming and going. Tracks leading to and from sights unseen and unknown." And the last liens "Here I stand in surrender. Waving my white flag. Did I miss the train?
Is life passing me by? Or maybe…It’s a simple letting go to this colorful landscape of the moment…." A marvelous poem of tenderness, whimsical joy and poigant observance. Your lovely poem had me thinking of a wonderful song by Jennifer Kimball and Tom Kimmel: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=987iPhplnO0
What a fun prompt! I wasn't sure how to feel about the painting at first, and it was a really cool experience to sit with it and keep noticing new things/ideas. I was really interested in the shadowy train in the foreground vs. seemingly untroubled world in the background, along with the witness.
Pastoral but for the
prison lights –
the sun-lit beyond
Crayola-toned,
cheerful,
and inhabited by
others.
.
You are below
the fall line, alone
with a monster
most don’t have to
witness, let alone
define. Your grief
is the purest thing
in sight.
This is haunting and vivid and beautiful! I love how it leaves me wondering and imagining about the witness. The ending lines "your grief / is the purest thing / in sight" are so powerful.
I love reading your take on this, Rebekah. "Crayola-toned" is such a brilliant way to capture the color scape of this painting. "Your grief is the purest thing in sight" hit me right in the heart.
I am loving all the different ways we can see a painting! I also saw the contrast with the more dark and light, shadowy and colorful - like you so poetically described here. And the "grief is the purest thing in sight." I see and feel that through the eyes of your poem. When I did mine, I saw the painting through the lens of my love for trains. Fascinating, how this exercise brings us to the same painting but we all see it uniquely. Thank you for your piece to the puzzle!
prison lights.
I love this take on the painting, Rebekah! This, coupled with the idea of the industrial society and the hurried pull that were highlighted in other poems, feels like an allegory for capitalism. The cheap, artificial feel of "Crayola-toned, cheerful" juxtaposed with "a monster most don't have to witness" is excellent. "Your grief is the purest thing in sight" feels so true of our world right now, and it makes me feel seen.
How beautiful Rebekah! The last lines are especially magical! “You are above the fall line, alone with a monster most don’t have to witness, let alone define. Your grief is the purest things in sight.” Oh my, this is tender, piercing and priceless.
Lisa, your ekphratic interpretation of Railway in Murnau was lovely and hopeful. Mine, not so much hopeful! But hey, what comes out, comes out. And here is what came out (but before that, I have nothing ekphratic to offer about the photo of BB, just awe and reverence for the power of the puppy, which I fully believe should be capable of curing all sorts of ills of the soul. Okay. Here is my poem about the Railway in Murnau, straight from the catacombs of my psyche:
Train of thought
bearing down hard
tracks of steel
stoked and surreal
casting shadows of doubt
across sun drenched fields
full of dreams, open and
defenseless against the
industrialized nonsense
billowing from charred stack
its acridity hot, thick, black
and as she bears witness
her mind’s unprovoked attack,
she swoons in distress,
white handkerchief flagging
surrender, heart plaintive and tender,
pleading creation defend her from
this runaway mental mania express.
“Runaway mental mania express” - I love how this wording captures the feeling of being stuck in my head. Maybe your poem isn’t especially hopeful, but it sure is relatable!
Hmmm reading your poem again, it has me thinking about how our individual too-busy, left-hemisphere-dominant brains are a microcosm of the wider culture and of the industrializd world that’s grown from our manic minds. But then there’s such a feedback loop there - the world reflects our minds, which shape the world, which shapes our thoughts, which shape the world, which. . . . Ahhhhh! Help me off this train, Keith!
Yes, exactly! When I saw the black, shadowy train and its adjacent power lines - the trappings of industrialized progress - juxtaposed with the sunny, bucolic scene, it seemed a metaphor for the way in which my thinking tears through an otherwise peaceful inner landscape, spewing pollution of all sorts. If I figure a way to get off the train, I'll certainly grab you to jump with me!
Another beautiful spoken word type offering from you, Keith! I read it through silently a couple times, but the third time out loud is where I found its full power. This is a lot like how I saw the painting, too -- simultaneously cheerful and ominous, and with one lone witness to the apparent contradiction. I love the idea of "white handkerchief flagging / surrender."
Thanks, Rebekah...simultaneously cheerful and ominous...so apt! I was really intrigued by the lone witness with her white handkerchief. I would love to know more about whether she was in the painter's mind's eye all along, or if she organically appeared after the landscape was fully manifested.
....industrialized nonsense....🙂
I wonder if it's time to start building another ark.
That idea makes infinitely more sense than the industrialized nonsense ; )
This poem feels like a rush, with the lines getting longer, continually chugging forward. I love your use of rhyme, especially the less expected internal rhyming.
Thanks, A - so interesting to hear you reflect back the rushing effect created by the line length - totally unconscious on my part!! Poetry is truly magical.
It could definitely be just the way I read it, but I liked how the format seemed to complement the content. I love when things like that happen unintentionally.
I think it was a really astute observation on your part...and me, too - love the unintentional channeling of something when it lines up that way!
Yep, the "runaway mental mania express." The "train of thought." Right there with you trudging and chugging down the rails, till the white flag goes up in surrender. That is the commonality we share today, the white handkerchief and surrender!
Wishing us both a gentler ride to come :)
I like this Keith, and your wonderful use of train in such beautifully contrasting ways. The power and force of a train, ultimately of not as much resistance to the "runaway mental mania express." This is such a thoughtful, yearning and honest description of the times. What tremendous writing, Keith!
Thank you, Larry! Your always-kind feedback is truly encouraging <3
I love this Keith. I really enjoy how you begin with the train of thought and keep the parallel tracks of metaphorical train with real train chugging forward. The runaway mental mania express is wisdom and genius, and so piecing and percetive. Yuor poem looks at a painting and uses that as inspiration to create a beauitful and lyrical testimony on the world we live in and the lives we lead.
Thank you, Larry - the painting really seemed to lend itself as a metaphor for those things. I would love to know what the painter's trains of thought were in rendering it.
Thank you Lisa for introducing a word and a writing form to me. I had never even heard the word "Ekphrastic" before!
I used a painting in our bedroom which we have had for a long time. It is a beautifully painted landscape of the Shenandoah Valley in Virginia as it meets the Roanoke Valley to the south, surrounded by the Blue Ridge mountains on the east, the Allegheny ridges to the west, all a part of the Appalachian range. VIrginia is my home state and I lived in these mountains for almost 10 years in college and afterwards, a sort of sacred ground for me.
This somewhat murky poem emerged, I edited it some, but it was stubborn and I stopped trying.
Shenandoah
Amber waves in summer,
grain of the Gods
bearing the “beautiful daughter of the stars.”
Flowing southward to the white beads,
encircled by blue haze ridges and
ancient mountains.
Gentle valley of the dreamers,
generations in harmony with
rhythms from another time.
Before breath there was silence.
Now, Indian Paintbrushes and
Mountain Laurel gaps,
Directions in circles taking flight,
rivers of light struggling to be free;
Even the angels get lost here from time to time.
Circes of life, years beckoning beyond
history emerging from voices long hidden.
Colors of light surround the night,
the keys rising to full joy.
Now the song begins to emerge,
At last, ready to be heard.
What a beautiful poem! I'm glad it stubbornly refused to be anything other than itself. The line "before breath there was silence" captivated me completely.
Thank you Lisa! I am not sure I followed the directions accurately by doing another painting--I can do that sometimes!
Went to jmu in harrisonburg, va. nothing like a big fat celebratory doobie after a summit to reddish knob.
" the hills come alive....."
thank you larry
for a fine flashback.
Yes, Chuck! I went to JMU undergrad as well, and we hiked up Reddish Knob many times! And celebrated both ways!
This poem is so beautifully rooted in place. I was grateful for your introduction where you set up the landscape for us — how the valleys and mountains all come together. My brain really likes those larger visuals & it grounded me for the poem itself… which was divine! I loved the reverent quality of it, ancient rocks and songs and voices hiding in plain sight it seems, perceived only by special folks like you. “Even the angels get lost here from time to time” — yes! I haven’t been in the Shenandoah Valley for many years but your poem really pulled me there. Would love to see the painting, too!
Thank you Rebekah! I’ll try to figure out to post a photo!
This may have been stubborn Larry, but you have corralled it into a beautiful poem. I really appreciated the recursion of circularity, and some of the lines really grabbed me "Even the angels get lost here from time to time." Dare I say, this sounds like a thin space? My parents lived the last 6 years of their lives in a facility in Staunton, VA and I am familiar with this area from many trips taken there during those years. It is a beautiful valley...those blue hazed ridges are ethereal.
A thin place and space for sure! I have had many mystical experiences in the Shenadnoah and Roanoke Valleys and the mountains of Virginia, North Carolina and West Virginia. Though I grew up on the Virginia coast in Virginia Beach, when I got to the mountains at 18 when I went to college, I knew I was home. I know Staunton well, my college was only thirty minuites from there and my brother lived and taught in Charlottesville, Va. for many years. Thank you for always reading with such clarity and insight.
Ah, I see that you and Chuck both went to JMU. I took my son to visit JMU back in 2016, but he ended up going to/graduating from George Mason. I lived in Northern VA for many years before moving to New England. Central VA really is such beautiful terrain. I don't know that I've ever been to coastal VA (strange!).
JMU was a magical place for me, in part because of the beautiful land, water and sky scapes. Geroge Mason is a good school as well and I ahve many dear friends in Northern Virginia. The coastal area of Virginia and North Carolina are beautiful even as they pounded by storms and the endless rush of development. Blessings to you, Keith!
I'm glad you had that magical experience, Larry. Hearing about it reminds me of the late great John O'Donoghue's poetry capturing the way in which humans fall deeply in love with landscapes. Me too. Blessings back at you!
Thank you Keith. John O'Donoghue is a treasure and an eduring legacy of wisdom and love!
I am seeing and feeling your painting Larry, through the poetic description of your poem. I get an ancestral feel to it along with an ageless one. A longing to go back in time, yet instead bringing the wise voices from long ago forward. "Now the song begins to emerge, At last, ready to be heard."
Thank you Julie! What perceptive and keen insights. Thank you!
This is beautiful, Larry! I can imagine what the painting that inspired it may look like.
It is beautiful, and it was nice to sit with and take in a paiting on our wall that can blend in with the rush of everyday life.
I love that idea. I think I might need to sit with some of my art that way.
Lisa, I love your poemic response to the painting. The part about hurry pulling the shadow felt so apt. I tend to struggle with feeling much of anything about art when I feel like I'm supposed to, so I wrote exclusively in response to Bob Barker, because his sweet face definitely gave me feelings.
There is nothing like
the perked ears of
an interest-piqued pup,
a fuzzy muzzle,
and earnest eyes,
to brighten mornings.
A, I love this! I'm sitting here right now with Bob Barker on my lap to keep him from eating the power cords at my feet. He is such a sweet little rascal -- and earnest! -- and your poem perfectly captures this.
The picture was wonderful inspiration! 😊 Thank you for sharing it with Lisa to share with us!
This is so sweet. So true those "earnest eyes, to brighten mornings." I agree!
This is such a sweet translation of the photo of BB. It really captures the essence of his innocent, inquisitive little puppy mug. <3
A., poems about dogs are always splendid! I love "and earnest eyes to brighten mornings." Yes!
there she is, over there,
waving to that damn train again.
she gets so close. it scares me.
she doesn't talk much about it.
she doesn't talk much at all anymore.
wish i'd never taken her
to the ballgame.
that fuckin' ballgame.
I guess you were right.
(4-1/2 minutes into an early morning 5 minute stare, this curious eavesdrop comes barreling in)
(maybe I should cut out the evening coffee)
I love that you just let this curious eavesdrop move through you into the world! My mind is busily imagining what might have gone down at that fuckin' ballgame.
Very nice, Chuck. I love the lines "she gets so close. It scares me. She diesn't talk much about it. She doesn't talk much at all anymore." Ah, coffee inspired genius!
Bob Barker is a beauty!
Lisa, thank you for helping me smile several times a week! Bob Barker is an elegant gem!
I am so late to this thread!!! Last week was hectic and I was back in the anxiety stress ball hole again :) But I came to say hello to the handsome Bob Barker and will spend some time getting caught up on everyone's responses!
There’s no such thing as late here. We all just arrive when we arrive! I’m glad you’re here today and hope there’s a doggy in your life to help chase down that anxiety stress ball and hide it away in the couch cushions for a bit. ❤️
There are two actually piled on top of me now - one of whom I just had to drug because it is raining here. Worst emotional support animal ever - lol! But seriously, I am better now because I wound up my job last week (I can't remember what I've written where but my boss died and we had to close our office). Anyway....back to the subject at hand.
This reminds me somewhat of the practice of Visio Divina - using sacred art to enter into prayer. Your poem resonated with me because I often feel like I am waiting for something to begin and now that I am at an actual place of beginning again, I hardly know where to start! But I will figure it out....
Karri, your presence is a blessing whenever you contribute, and your spirit is here always. What transitions and challenges you are navigating. I am glad you made it through the closing of the office and moviung through grief snd loss, change and antivipstion, and the anxiety and uncertainty that are often hovering. Thinking of you and sending light and blessings. Thank you for being such a dear light for us!
Thank you for your kind words Larry!
You are welcome Karri! My pleasure!