I lost count of the amount of times I felt my heart stretch as I read and listened. Thank you, always, for these powerful reminders of our true place 🤍
Thank you Amanda, as my Mum loses language I am reminded of how much can be shared by presence and touch.
Your poem reminds me of the presence I feel in some woodlands, both here and in the UK. The first time I walked in Suffolk woods I felt at home in a way I never expected. I understood the stories of the Green Man.
Thank you for your poem, and for taking the time to care for the poet! When creativity won’t be forced, we need to heed the message (its usually rest, or do something else for a bit).
During hard times in my life, I have gone to a favorite tree in the woods and placed my palms against its mighty trunk. I then breathed and asked it for its wisdom to help and guide me. I looked upwards into its leafy top branches and thanked it.
Another banger! That last phrase, "I listen for the old gods / speaking my mother tongue" floored me, and perfectly brought the whole thing to a close - well, not a close, but an open. Really glad yto have come across your work today. Looking forward to reading more.
I really enjoyed your poem, Amanda. My favorite aspect of it is the mystique of the "you" that's mentioned.
Since you asked...I have felt myself dissolve into the web of existence, felt an undeniable presence and intelligence that was both me and not me (or rather, something bigger than me), that seemed to hug me and reassure me. I think that qualifies as a speaking without words.
In quiet moments, I can still tap into a glimmer of that feeling. It never quite left me. I think perhaps you're referring to something similar in your poem.
I lost count of the amount of times I felt my heart stretch as I read and listened. Thank you, always, for these powerful reminders of our true place 🤍
Thank you Amanda, as my Mum loses language I am reminded of how much can be shared by presence and touch.
Your poem reminds me of the presence I feel in some woodlands, both here and in the UK. The first time I walked in Suffolk woods I felt at home in a way I never expected. I understood the stories of the Green Man.
Thank you for your poem, and for taking the time to care for the poet! When creativity won’t be forced, we need to heed the message (its usually rest, or do something else for a bit).
During hard times in my life, I have gone to a favorite tree in the woods and placed my palms against its mighty trunk. I then breathed and asked it for its wisdom to help and guide me. I looked upwards into its leafy top branches and thanked it.
Another banger! That last phrase, "I listen for the old gods / speaking my mother tongue" floored me, and perfectly brought the whole thing to a close - well, not a close, but an open. Really glad yto have come across your work today. Looking forward to reading more.
What a nice poem Amanda and what a beautiful tree.
I really enjoyed your poem, Amanda. My favorite aspect of it is the mystique of the "you" that's mentioned.
Since you asked...I have felt myself dissolve into the web of existence, felt an undeniable presence and intelligence that was both me and not me (or rather, something bigger than me), that seemed to hug me and reassure me. I think that qualifies as a speaking without words.
In quiet moments, I can still tap into a glimmer of that feeling. It never quite left me. I think perhaps you're referring to something similar in your poem.