Skip to main content

I'M OPEN by Leslie Caplan

 I wrote this poem last week. I was sitting with a writing friend in a local cafe', we took out our pens and gave each other random prompts…

Her prompt for me was "I'm open." This is what came spilling out in a timed 10-minute stream.  I didn't have any forethought of what I would write. I wasn't particularly percolating anything inside of me that day.  Often when I write, I don't know what comes out until it's finished and I read it out loud. I go into kind of a trance, move aside, and let the part of me that has access to myself so deeply, come forward.

This was the case with this poem. When I read it, I am more revealed to myself. I learn about the parts of me that long, are nostalgic, and that even when I ebb and flow, I rest somewhere in the 'in between'. This piece of writing speaks to both the mystic and the human being. It passes through hemispheres and lands on the earth. It's one of my favorite pieces. It follows a course, takes me on a journey and lands me in my belonging. This is what writing does for me. Thank you for taking the time to read it. 

I’m Open
by Leslie Caplan

I'm open as I close 
and contract
huddling into the swell of moon
and release of fall
where the death of things

is beautifully eerie 
and lush

until it becomes 

with an exquisiteness 
of its own
I'm open
to being here
to letting go of things 
I wish I could remember 
and capture like
they belong to me
the memories, the bounty of my
budding womanhood
in the verdant mazes of grain
laying down with the horizon
in a bed of seeds to harvest
I'm open
and I miss certain things
that will never be again
The poetry of my young mothering
in a primeval forested temple 
where gongs and baritone bells 
thrummed my heart open
and changed my eyes
deepened their light
their ebony carved tears
that lead me there in the first place
I stay open
to a love that was,
a love that was born winged
and perched inside my soul until
a wind came through me
and asked that all things rooted
take flight
I was born into sky
the rippling thunder of blue and lavender 
just before rainfall
The scent of strength breathing my lungs open
and willing
to belong
to not belong
To be someone that lives
in the in-between
To rock and sway and move with
the elements of all that has brought me here
to this planet
to this unfolding
I am open
A turning into pages
of a book being written
etched with words that
sing in a language 
no one may understand
until I reveal their colors 
in the barefooted walk of my landing
and still
in the breath of all I have
come to know.

Leslie Caplan is a passionate writer and has been published internationally. She is a professional Writing Coach and editor who encourages and evokes the strongest, deepest expression of the writer's voice and heart.  She also facilitates writing workshops where writing is used as a tool for revealing and healing.  She lives in the small town of Ashland, Oregon and you can connect with her on her website 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!~


Popular posts from this blog

I AM STILL HERE by Janavi Held


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

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…