inside out

 

the world outside my window

waits

as i sit peering through

this pane, so recently washed clean,

the shade drawn neatly to reveal

Her glistening

beyond my reach, for now,

she gracefully responds to wind’s caress

shifting subtly  in and out of shadow

bowing suddenly to something More

persistent

i wonder how it feels?

is the caress in truth too harsh?

the shadow merely bitter?

the dapples of light daunting?

and as i sit here whiling

while winter melts away

and spring with her insistence presses

in to block my view

with greenery, and ground now white

succumbs to camouflage,

how then will I find my way?

4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Zach Musser
    Feb 22, 2010 @ 18:40:18

    Hey Mom,

    I have to post a comment to a blog site for my Wilkes class, and since I ma fresh out of inspiration at the moment, I thought I’d come here to find some! Hhhhmmm…perhaps I’ll write a “refutation” of sorts to your original…here goes!

    The world inside my window
    encloses
    as i sit peering through
    this pane, filthy with the cold winter’s mess,
    dusty curtains haphazardly hung
    Her gray dullness
    well within my reach, but unwanted
    she shutters in wind’s cold grip
    cast in dark and unflattering shadow
    slowing succumbing to something more
    Persistence?
    I wonder how it feels?
    The caress in truth is too harsh
    The shadow indeed bitter.
    even the dapples of light burn my eyes
    and as i sit here wallowing
    while winter drones on
    and spring?
    has abandoned me
    how then will I find my way?

    (Sorry for the pessimism; it unfortunately reflects my current frustration. Feel free to delete at your leisure!)

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  2. emmaatlast
    Feb 23, 2010 @ 12:43:14

    no problem about the pessimism…. it would hardly be worth posting if it didn’t reflect some truth. (sorry about the elipse:)

    my frustration is perhaps not all that different. there is something in me that wants to ‘step outside’ but feels stuck inside right now. i’ve described it as standing in a threshold, looking at a vast empty landscape (endless white of some sort, whether that be snow or sand). on one hand, the possibilities of direction are endless. on the other, there is no one direction that beckons. it is the potential that i am most drawn to, and perhaps the fear that there is really nothing out there (in here) that repels me back inside.

    who am i now?

    spring, in the poem, represents the way in which, while i am ‘busy’ doing nothing, the force of life continues ceaseless in its pursuit, and will soon enough fill my days with a busyness that may or may not be of my own choosing. of course, even non-choice is a choice.

    a fellow retreatant shared a snippet of a chinese proverb on friday. something like this ‘busyness keeps knocking on my door. busyness does not seem to understand that i do not want it’. i take ‘busyness’ to be like ‘busy work’- that unfulfilling, meaningless filler of time that is too often a substitute for , or a distraction from, a deeper desire for something meaningful.

    who am i now?

    thanks for choosing my blog.

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    Reply

  3. Randy Phillips
    Feb 28, 2010 @ 20:48:18

    H’mmm. . .

    I shan’t get involved in the previous discussions! “Inside Out” does capture something of the spiritual experience of being transfixed while gazing out one’s window. And, at least for me, it is usually a certain window, with a particular view, that draws me to reflection and to dream. How that window and its outside contents become so important with the passing of the seasons and the events in our lives. Though it hardly remains constant it somehow feels as if it does – – perhaps because it is always there waiting and beckoning, inviting and faithful.

    Whenever I must move from one home to another there is always a window, a view to the outside around that home from which I must take leave – – I’ve even come to ritualize it – – and over the years, I still miss those windows, and yet the vision they gifted to me, their constancy and presence – – in some way they remain.

    Sometimes people remark negatively about the aged who do nothing but stare out the window all day. Often, in my over busyness, I would love to have uncounted time to devote to such a pursuit. Where might such fancies take me? And can we be so sure our aged ones are doing nothing but staring?

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  4. Carolyn Masters
    Mar 01, 2010 @ 09:36:02

    Vicki, I appreciate deeply our work together which has helped me notice the outer seasons as rich sources for inner reflection. Your thoughtful poem followed by your son’s free and honest one inspired me to complete a poem which I had started at the beginning of this winter. I’d like to share it here

    Lingering

    As winter lingers on
    I’m still rushing in and out of doors
    Anxious only to secure
    The next warm space.

    Why not pause between the worlds
    To re-call earth mother
    With her diaspora of seeds
    Inert since flower’s demise.

    Let our union draw me
    From warmth to more benumbing
    For I too may need stillness
    To invoke my becoming.

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