Posts Tagged ‘poem’

The city is like a cold plunge
after the hottest pool
a tingling sensation
the body jumps alive
dunk the head
immerse yourself.

But soon it becomes intense
the coolness of the waters
chill the flesh, and then the bones
muscles tighten  – tense
the aliveness you felt,
and you crave the heat you just escaped.

Initially it is not as hot as before
until it burns
and you jump back into the cold.

The warm pool is pleasant
but the thrills are gone
a crowded bath in which to linger
calming slowly
sickening slow at times
and you can’t wait to emerge
a shower to wash it all away,
and you begin again.

I wrote this poem this summer the day after i arrived in San Francisco after spending over three weeks at Harbin Hotsprings. The center of the springs was the pools – a large warm pool that was wonderful for relaxation – not too intense and the warmth soaked in slowly – but at times it felt sluggish, draining away not only your toxins and stress, but at times your life force. Above were hot and cold pools – the hot pool was intense, almost burning, and you could stay for only a moment. Behind was the cold plunge, and it was cold – you jumped in quickly, and your whole body tingled with excitement and you felt so alive and then it would begin to chill. So you jumped back and forth between the two, lingering in neither.

When i got to the city, i felt that initial buzz of excitement and of life. But soon, I craved the country, where i did return.

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I sleep inside
and do not feel the power of the night
the breath of the world in my soul.

I am warm
I do not shiver or lay huddled in a ball,
The cold does not penetrate these thick walls
And the wind does not blow through.
I no longer feel its call.
The air I breathe in the place of another is stale
the life force is faint.

I am dry
no longer washed clean by the rain.
A solid roof over my head
blocks out not only the clouds and rain but the stars and moon
the power of the universe becomes less intense.

I sleep in a comfortable bed that cushions the bones
Far above the lap of mother earth where she soothes the aches and whispers to my soul.
I read late into the night and wake when i need,
lose track of the cycle of the day, of the year.
bedtime no longer determined by the setting of the sun
and i no longer stir awake in bed awaiting the crack of dawn.

I barely feel the power of the moon as she waxes and wanes
am not intricately aware of her phases, or where and when she rises and sets
of how she lights up the nights and shines into your eyes
or of the darkness that surrounds in her absence.
The vibrations of the power that runs through the walls are different
that those of the voices of the night.

 It is quiet here, the sounds outside do not seep in
but i feel the hum and buzz, of the fridge, of the implements of our lives
and the breathing of the dogs and cats that keep me company.
Gone is the roar of the ocean, the wind blowing through the trees, the coyotes howling, cows giving birth, the patter of rain, the steps of others, the birds at dawn and the rustling of animals in the night
But i am safe
protected from the vibrations and spirits of the night
protected from the animals and people who might harm me
protected from the elements

The night outside is cold and wet as storms blow through.
I am safe
but less connected to that force of life
cut off in my created world
and that of another.

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