Friday, February 18, 2011

Judgement

Portland

who are we to judge
the quality of your creation . . 
you tried your very best,
tearing into the experiences 
of your inner soul. . .
digging deep into your heart . .
finding the pieces to build something
to share
with the rest of us . . .
to give as a gift . . . . a balm for our wounds
. . . to heal us,
and to say . ..  "I understand . . .
I have seen the eternal fires . . .
I have climbed those broken mountains,
I have touched the dragon's tooth,
I have tasted the tears of angels,
I have heard the song of the silent . . .

I have been there
and back . . ."

the nascence of your dreams,
like the visions of the gods,
is tender and easily bruised . . .
who are we to judge
your fragile child . . .
as if it were the bleeding refuse of
your imagination . . .
disregarded by our inability
to hear the pleading in your voice . ..
"hear me -
oh hear my cry .  .
the crimson patterns of
my spilled blood
stain the very foundations
of my creations . .. "

We see those weeping patterns
and read them .  . as they drip from your offspring
. . . an ocean of tears . . wept . . .  and storm tossed . ..
mixed with war and love . ..  
death and life . . .
and the filthy mud of our humanity . . .
cemented together and formed
into
an angel arising from that rough material,
and
flying above the maelstrom
to lift us higher . .  into the circle of your arms . . 
where our hearts
melt into yours . . 
and we become one
##





Portland

4 comments:

CŒDES Pierre-Marie said...

Who are You ? Friends of course. . . those. . . ourselves. . . we try to reach to find ourselves. . . ourselves in your words. . . this unexpressed part of ourselves in our music you find and bring to light, because, beyond our expression with notes lies ourselves, waiting to share the unexpected, that very mystery we are not aware of when we compose.
You are ourselves, One, scattered to the four corners of humanity. And we are You.
PM

Wolfsong said...

WOW . . that was so well said, PM . . . . you hit the nail on the head. It is so mystical . . the creative aspect of humanity and the communications between beings . .. It bears more thought . ..as you can tell - critique is on my mind . . . its fascinating . . and will continue to fascinate me . .

Thanks for your lovely words!
- Barbara

Moineau En France said...

sure does hit home, barbara. it is something like blood and semen we pour into our creations and then that pesky competition creeps in, with winner, loser, one-upmanship: "well let me tell you about MY experience." we lose the moment, the ability to move in another shoes and walk around a while. it's so easy to disregard a poet. it's so easy to disregard love as we reach for that empty golden ring! we all want to be famous! (i say all, but i know that's a stretch. but they have said that the #1 reason people give for depression is the fact that they don't have fame. wild, huh? but sadly, it makes sense. xoxoxoxoox

Wolfsong said...

Laura, I wonder if "Fame" is that deep craving to be understood . . . to have that connection with others, to have the other know you deeply and yet love you, accept you and understand you . . . I think art is always an expression of that attempt and I think it is what makes us different from the beasts . . .

xoxoxox Thanks for your comment :-D