A few months ago, well after winter made her entrance...
I rose
early one morning and, after chanting and reading for awhile, I paused
from my spiritual pursuits and simply turned my gaze and attention to
what lay outside my window. My senses became captivated by the rising
sun unfolding its glorious garments of light across the treetops of oaks,
maples and pines that lined the horizon before me.
It was then that I began to write whatever came to mind, purging
my consciousness of stray thoughts that had been curled up tight in its
corners, dark and hidden.
I scribbled six pages of what most would
probably consider contradictory nonsense. Philosophical and spiritual
ramblings, one thought leading to another, a string of jumbled up observations
and insights. That was inconsequential to me, however, because when words and
thoughts seem to flow out like that I feel so alive and it causes my
consciousness to greet the day with a keen awareness of gratitude.
After dropping my daughter off at school I thought I'd try to
take what I wrote and make a philosophical kind of poem with it which would
attempt to reveal a snapshot of some of the ideas that took form during my
moments of contemplation that morning. But it just didn't happen that way.
Instead I wrote down what preceded that time altogether, before pen ever
touched paper. The time when I finished reading and paused, simply to see the
world at play, being a silent witness to its slowly coming to life on an early
winter's morning.
This is a poem, which had a spontaneous birth. I hope you enjoy
it.
Morning Secrets
Morning spills her secrets outside my window.
The narrow branches splitting off like fingers
from the thick outstretched arms of trees
are laced with the brilliant translucence
of newly birthed frost. They take in with glee
what her loose tongue has to share-
jewels of miraculous vibration.
And shine their remnants right back out at the world.
To the old man, shuffling with intention up the sidewalk,
bent over and stooped, bundled in warm wool,
breath preceding his figure in vaporous clouds.
To the woman driving by, too distracted to look out and wonder,
her windshield slowly melting away the beauty of the morn.
And below my steady hand, poised with anticipation,
Is a blank sheet of copy paper the children use to draw on,
Inviting me to spill my own secrets.
Jessica Mokrzyckl: "I am a mother of two beautiful children and have been married for almost ten years now. I seek the truth into my own nature and that of God's and explore my experiences and reflections on a regular basis on my blog Ascending The Hills. I have found a lot of inspiration and direction from the Bhagavad Gita and other Vedic scriptures and have found that chanting has been an invaluable spiritual practice that I engage in daily."You may contact me via my facebook page here.
~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~
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