Poetry Showcase: Other Being
“What is any art but an effort to imprison the shining, elusive element which is life itself - life hurrying past us, too strong to stop and too sweet to lose?” - Willa Cather: The Song of the Lark, 1915.
Perhaps this moment of creative inspiration was no coincidence. Such was the reach and depth of that day that I wanted to keep hold of it somehow, keep close the magic of this not-so-
solitary ’solo’ experience. I wanted to find a way to revel in it, to make sense of it. I wanted to do this not just for me, but for all of us.
Connects our little spots between the trees
The spruce and the larch
As the peaks darken
And we slide into
Self-strung muddles of cosy wonder
And the orange moon rises.
At last, stillness.
Resting weary minds, bodies, souls.
A place from which to see with new eyes
Hear new calls
Crush sprigs of pine between our palms
This so-called solo is anything but.
It is time
To be with
The beings that are not
Tree beings, moss beings, ant beings, bee beings
The beings who are always
As the human beings mostly race above this place
In narrow metal tubes
Busy being human.
This day is different
Some human beings are choosing to stay awhile
On this every day, night and day, being.
With our rustle and tarps
Our sitting and picking
Our proteinaceous poop
The flakes of our skin
The tread of our boots
We claim our space
Squish a fly
Move a stone
Sneeze in the night
A bear stops in her tracks
And chooses a different path.
Who knows what else
The trees see
The mountains look upon
As we exchange our gaze
Our air, our water, our spirits
Who knows what’s different
Because we are here.
We will return to our every day
To the hum and the drum of our ordinary lives
With the earth beneath our fingernails
The scent of the pines in our souls
And perspectives from mountain days in our pockets
But traces of us remain
Here. With these beings
It is, because I was.
I am, because they are.
Solo, sweet solo day of quiet rest and other being.
We were never alone.