Skip to main content

Thank You by Leslie Caplan

Often when I write, it is a stream that comes out of me without knowing exactly why or for whom I am speaking of, or to…

This one came out like that. My intention was to write an entirely different piece from a prompt that had nothing to do with what I wrote here.  The first line came out. A gratitude for nothing specific that became very specific.  It rolled out of me as a deep appreciation for everyone and everything that has crossed or merged with my path. This is what I love about writing. It writes me on the page and each time, I am more revealed to myself. 

Thank You
by Leslie Caplan

Thank you for that
For the song you played out on my page
landing in my vein
The one that writes itself sane
I thank you

for taking the road all rugged and mud-slid

clearing it out

straightening the line

so I can walk along side

with my eyes closed

My eyes

Closed

Seeping into smoky blue like
a misted forest stream
breathing like it's got a pair of lungs
the size of mountains
I stand naked 
cloaked in skin
Bones softening to earth and turning
into roots that dig in
Dig right in

Thank you for that
for the way you respond
Your wet lips shining with
what I evoked in you
How my lyric struck a lyric in you
and you carved out words
into the sand
and let the ocean write your poem
that moved like the water itself
breathed me like
the air itself swirled
into a landing inside my chest
Thank you for that

For grabbing my hand when I was turning left
Even though the map said to go right
Thank you
My head was in the clouds
and I thought my freedom meant
that I had to take flight
until you showed me
it's right here on the ground

I thank you for that

For the way you lit my incense
and prayed a breath so deep into me
my belly filled with waters
growing seeds thrown by
so many

Thank you
You handed me a mound of fertilizer
and soft strong hands to pat it down
into the earth surrounding me
I grew whole and twisted like vines that reach
and reach
and reach as
they root in spirals on the ground

Thanks for that
I only need a little rain
to keep me growing
No downpour, flood or tidal wave
Just a little rain
coming off the west wind
bringing waves and ripples of
my billowy sky
and wet, jagged hills
smoothed out by my own sorrow healed


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!~

Comments

  1. Invest in Ripple on eToro the World's Top Social Trading Network!

    Join 1,000,000's who have already found smarter strategies for investing in Ripple...

    Learn from experienced eToro traders or copy their trades automatically

    ReplyDelete

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

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. Ga...

STILL I RISE by Maya Angelou

Six years ago, I had the privilege of listening to Maya Angelou speak live on the value of poetry at the University of Florida. I share these reflections with you again today, in honor of her birthday.  I was relieved to get one of the last seats available for this rare event, having arrived at five for Maya Angelou ’s free speech at eight. The historically long line began with people settled into beach chairs in winter coats busying themselves on tablets, or eating sandwiches for dinner. As helicopters hovered above and newscasters below, I felt the excitement of realizing that thousands of people were gathering together to hear an eighty four year old black woman recite her poetry! Maya Angelou speaking at University of Florida on Feb. 27, 2013  When the curtain rose -after an overflow of hundreds were sent away- we lucky ones on the inside greeted Maya with a standing ovation, as she smiled sweetly, beginning her talk using metaphors from nature. Maya asked...

MIRABAI'S POETRY by Caitanya Dasi

Much of the mystic love poetry from India revolves around musical and theatrical expressions that portray the loving relationship between the soul and God… One such celebrated relationship was that between princess Mirabai and her divine beloved, Krishna. Born in the sixteenth century  into a noble Rajput family, Mirabai married into a family that did not take fondly to her devotion to God. Consequently, she went from royalty to mendicant, and decorated her spiritual path with poetic songs. I first heard of the great poet, Mirabai in the early 1970’s while I was living and studying bhakti yoga at the Hare Krishna temple in Los Angeles, California.  As I had a background in the performance arts Mirabai’s life instantly spoke to me. Her fusion of spiritual sentiments with song resonated with my passion for music, drama, dance, and the devotional path to loving God. In 1968 I serendipitously met a devotee by the name of Mirabai, who taught me that the perfectio...