“Discernment is Never Selfless” The Sunday Whirl #180

When plants and pictures against the wall have
the same interbalance as the distance I keep
from the living, it’s a polarized position for me.

Searching beneath armchairs,
I try to catch the butterfly’s breath,
for a tingling gentle notion
in my immediate sanctuary.

Outside my window
flowers grow wanting to be a posey,
so they may walk through flames
and love; leaving ashes in their wake.

It’s blue agile and irreversible.
I remove my belt, my skirt, and toss my sandals to the corner,
but retain my knotted ponytail.
I laugh descending my body to insomnia with docile wakes
only aware of my nakedness
when my hair touches the tip of my shoulder
as a sheared-eye looks at me from above:

Enervating I wait for suspension to it all,
feeling goose bumps overtaking me,
I pause my smile.
Is it only fear where joy can’t exist?

Neglecting these efforts like a stranger to the precarious lamp’s light
bringing my fingers to the edge of the blue sheets
I touch them running along the seam,
all has become a dream.

Our indifference to life is because life kills ours and others.
It’s worthless and natural,
life and death are inseparable.
Every time life loses significance,
the second becomes irrelevant.

Process notes: The last stanza is loosely translated and slightly rearranged words by author Octavio Paz, but essentially what he was saying in “El Laberinto de la Soledad”.


21 responses to ““Discernment is Never Selfless” The Sunday Whirl #180

  1. Pamala A lovely piece, I was caught by the ‘butterfly breath’, where else but under the chair, of course….. another lovely thought. Yes, as much as it distresses us, and we want to think otherwise, life and death do go together. Maybe one of the only relationships to really last?

    And I think it is true, we don’t really know joy without the sorrow. I was told at Jim’s death, “The heart leaves behind more than death takes away.” I felt angry, thought the person crazy, to say such a thing, but now, I am thinking maybe it is true, too.

    I hope you are doing OK. The loss of a member of your tribe, even if it is a tribe of only two, is so unthinkable. So hard to prepare for. It takes a long time….but of course in the big picture, not so long after all, maybe only a million years.

    Our lives are richer because of knowing them….even in the shadow, but is is also said, the shadow is where the richest colors are.

    xoxoxoxoxo Annell Livingston HC 74 Box 21860 El Prado, NM 87529


    http://www.annelllivingston.com http://www.somethingsithinkabout-annell-annell.blogspot.com http://www.geoform.net 575-751-0680

  2. Its complexity makes me read and re-read your poem. Enjoyment!

  3. Your personification of the flowers mimics my own desires for this messed up world. I love your repetition of blue as it forces me to ponder its significance. I’m with Viv. This piece commands several reads. “all has become a dream.

    • You are spot-on with your interpretation of the “posey”, Brenda. Thanks for the lovely comment. I am getting ready to head out for soccer Sunday. I will be round in the afternoon to read. ox

  4. Hiya Pamela, Re-emerging as promised… And My, My things have come on methinks – What a very beautiful and deep, many layered piece that speaks of both experience, understanding and knowing longings that linger still…

    Many lovely and telling touches here – the “butterfly breath,” the flowers that “walk through flames and love; leaving ashes in their wake…” The awareness of your nakedness sparked only by the “touch of hair on the tip of your shoulder…” the “sheared eye” the “goosebumps”

    The oft savage and yet joyful counterpoint of life is so fully laid bare and understood here. Love the ambition too of what is your conclusive line here – Though, had I been brave enough to get to this point, maybe I would have been tempted to say: “Is it only fear where joy can’t exist?”

    Much Love & Light to you Pamela – so stimulating and a joy as ever to read your stuff… xxx

  5. I think keep trying to catch that butterfly’s breath…it may not mean life has any more meaning when all seems lost..but it is easy to wish for it to breathe than ourselves at time…and I love the drowsiness in your bed…sounds like a place of processing and understanding..and if even a snippet of joy comes along put it In that jar too…peaceful Sunday to you xo

  6. What a dreamlike sensuous poem this is. However it does encourage us to appreciate the even to tiniest event that we are privileged to witness.

  7. Ok I read this three times -What can I say about this poem, except it’s “beeping” excellent!!! Love the butterfly mention, could be the ghost of the one you found this week.? The last stanza wonderfully ties the poem together.

  8. “all has become a dream” sums it up nicely.

  9. I pause my smile.
    Is it fear where joy can’t exist?

    One often wonders what is it that drives us. Is lack of joy likewise an element of mystery? One keeps asking! Great lines Pamelita!


  10. I love this! These words ring true to me: Every time life loses significance,
    the second becomes irrelevant.

  11. What can I say, Belva, but that Octavio has hit the nail on the head, so to speak. Thanks.

  12. Very complex indeed–not a quick read.

I appreciate all comments.

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