Skip to main content

MORNING SECRETS by Jessica Mokrzyckl


 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!~ 

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

I AM STILL HERE by Janavi Held

EDITOR'S NOTE:

This was composed by a very gifted and beautiful soul: a regular contributor to our poetry project, and dear friend of mine, Janavi Held, whose life is gradually being taken from us by an incurable illness. She has been suffering from Complex Regional Pain Syndrome and Internal Adhesions for six painful years now, and neither her insurance nor the government healthcare will help her. She reaches out to us, her sisters, as a last plea. This is a poem she wrote yesterday on her birthday, in which she offers us the gift of her friendship. May it touch your generous hearts and inspire you to reach out to her in her plight.


Dear Friends,

The last time I was able to leave the house was by ambulance on my way to the hospital. After many long hours in the emergency room I was admitted and taken upstairs. After everyone left I sat on the hospital bed, knees to chest, bracing my body against the pain and trembling.

The light of this cold day was fading. I turned my eyes to the la…

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness…
Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather all of life into your inner c…

DEPRESSION by Veronica Carpenter

Depression
Here goes my vulnerability A heart on a sleeve The typical person who looks at me May not see the same me that I live with daily The mind in the air, swirling with possibility When the darkness rallies/gathers/swirls When I am left to solitude This paper-thin garb unzips Here comes depression          
No I don’t want to advertise So flash a smile Those who are close get to see Through the veil, it’s really not that thick Circumstances in life like to stab at the rib Stumble, fall behind the door Shut out the world Feelings well and weigh down Strength hidden deep in the core So deep that sometimes it’s forgotten Here comes the darkness My old friend Sweeping through my every move  Doubts, fears, un-named masked men Oozing like honey, sticking to everything
Patience is required to get on this ride There is a cycle but its pattern is unknown Slowly my gift will unwrap itself Stay on the path Coming back to that which never truly left me Just laid sleeping out of exhaustion from the fight Dormant in winter…