Of the Waters and the Wild

Spread the love

The art of almost speaks in whispers of the waters and the wild;
every word,
every syllable as urgent as the next breath,
an enigma, so far away
and yet at times
so near sensing hours where conversation is craved
for we are designed to be shelters,
to carry pain on our shoulders,
lovely, dark and deep—
I am the mother of sorrows; I am the ender of grief;
let my hands remove the dark clouds of your day,
my heart bear the weight of your sky,
tread peacefully
through this abyss of humor and hate,
come share light
in the face of poisoned people; theirs is a sadness misguided.
I am a question in the name of humanity; I am the increase in chaos;
I have left my signature on rocky shores
marked
with hues and shades of fuchsia sin,
each one a firm reminder of the kind of person I have been—
water and wild is taught by thirst,
filling the jar with shooting stars instead of tears;
still, if you find yourself silent at their altar, needing more,
know that something or the other has changed—
I am the keeper of secrets; I am an open book waiting to be read;
what is unsaid is often louder than a volume of words,
care to venture and find out?

 

 

 

Photo credits: “Spy Bar,” by Nick Alm Oil on Canvas, 40 × 40, Pinterest

Laura hosts at dVerse and invites us to build our poems around Paradox. I chose “I am the mother of sorrows; I am the ender
of grief;from Paul Dunbar’s The Paradox. Come join us! 💝

Posted for Poetics: Beyond Meaning or The Resolution of Opposites @ dVerse Poets Pub

30 Replies to “Of the Waters and the Wild”

  1. I am the mother of sorrows; I am the ender of grief;

    I think it takes someone that really knows sadness to be able to give comfort and drive away clouds.

    I immediately recognized the house with Spy Bar… it’s a nightclub in downtown Stockholm (where I’ve never been)

  2. that opening line stuns – just a joy to repeat. The poem enlists the listener in all the aspects of shoulder to cry on, ear that hears, hand to sweep away dark clouds and the spot on paradox at the end
    “I am the keeper of secrets; I am an open book waiting to be read;”

  3. What is unsaid… ah, yes, that is where it is at. Most do not take time to read the unsaid….
    I love this line as well…

    Spread the love…

    …tread peacefully
    through this abyss of humor and hate,
    come share light
    in the face of poisoned people; theirs is a sadness misguided.

  4. gently supportive, some amazing phrases like “tread peacefully
    through this abyss of humor and hate”
    so many paradoxes … this is speaks to me!

  5. I sense the paradox of a comfort in words unsaid and truths unknown:
    ‘water and wild is taught by thirst,
    filling the jar with shooting stars instead of tears;’
    I love these lines: so comforting, like a soft whisper in the ear of one who is grieving.

  6. I love the ‘art of almost’ Sanaa, which breathes through your poem with its ‘whispers of the waters and the wild’. These words are so deep and full of truth:
    ‘…we are designed to be shelters,
    to carry pain on our shoulders,
    lovely, dark and deep—
    I am the mother of sorrows; I am the ender of grief’,
    and I love the lines:
    ‘water and wild is taught by thirst,
    filling the jar with shooting stars instead of tears’.

  7. come share light
    in the face of poisoned people; theirs is a sadness misguided.
    I am a question in the name of humanity;

    These lines in particular blow my mind, Sanaa, but the whole poem is brilliant, I think.

    Yours,
    David

  8. There are so many wonderful lines here, but these really stunned me:’I have left my signature on rocky shores
    marked
    with hues and shades of fuchsia sin,
    each one a firm reminder of the kind of person I have been—’
    Fuchsia sin is positively brilliant, Sanaa.

  9. “The art of almost speaks in whispers . . . .” This is delicious poetry and the paradoxes that follow, including “I am the mother of sorrows; I am the ender of grief” are just exquisite in unraveling that art which remains, whispering. Lovely, Sanaa

  10. AS the old saying goes in the USA, you hit this prompt out of the ballpark! Just a wonderful write. Love these words
    ” we are designed to be shelters,
    to carry pain on our shoulders,
    lovely, dark and deep—”
    And the repetition of water and wild is iconic. Ending with that question….just perfect!

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *