Shadows of mountains
guard the thin ground of this life.
The high dry canyons stretch
out around seamless dunes
in the magic Western plains.
Footprints in leaf rot,
the sweet smell of season’s end
in cool shadowed green.
The beauty of light
is cupped in silence
in cactus flowers,
ghost flowers,
in the trickling mirror
of freshwater pools.
Can we go on from here?
Have we the power
to lift this balm of shadow
for the chaos of light?
Out of the Shadow
16 Saturday Nov 2013
Posted in poems
Poetry on the run 
this is a stunning metaphor. have we the power, indeed?
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Yes, i wonder at the unfocused power of the 6-7 billion souls who do not occupy a place at the top of the pyramid. Some very small changes in perspective/thinking could shift the balance, bend that pyramid into a circle…life could be so grand for so many, even the most unfortunate. We could stop killing the planet and sealing our doom about 5 billion years too soon. Well, my optimism continues to dim and that makes me sad to the point of depression. Hmmm, think I shall go lift this pall with a celebratory glass of beaujolais nouveau 2012, until this coming Thursday when the 2013 vintage becomes legal and we can revel in the coming and going of another year in which the difficulty of thriving makes it all the more sweet…Up the Optimism!
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up the optimism, because we must…because there is no choice. à la tienne.
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I love “the beauty of light/is cupped in silence” and the way it ties in with the ending. Thank you, Jan
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