Poems written this week by Simrich Yarrow, resident poet at the Barefoot Guide 4 WriteShop.
In ways we cannot know
This heart-open project to bare our soles is first a spiral-spider movement inwards
To that mysterious ambiguous saucy source of constant change
When we tap that treacley tree-core
We can challenge some of what has gone before
Provided that we remember to use singing tones too
For we wish to spread the wonderfully dangerous belief
That there is a peachy potency for change in every soul
We wish to support this sap’s flow into our connecting communities
Just as it flows in birdsong and bubbling laughter
And leafing through the many forms this tree may shape
The many performances this being we are birthing may inspire
We will cook a patchwork platter
We will warm up a new rhythm, a new dance in syllable and sound and colour
Branching from our theory-trunk into a forest feast of story
Our roots and twigs will tingle with the knowledge that the waves of breakdown desperation
Hold future fulfilment in their foamy crashing
And if we intuitively trust the ripple-vibrations of our vibrant sharing
Our works will wash their way into the world
In ways we cannot know
The grandmother in our hearts
Viva! The wisdom of the grandmothers
who notice the perfumes we try to hide and sometimes save our lives
who share the power of simplicity
showing compassion for our consumer confusion
who live inside all our hearts
helping us bring each other in from the cold hard edges
listening for magic moments
defending our rights to live free lives
fighting only with power-words and power-stories that recreate dignified roles
turning scavengers into instant livestock entrepreneurs
and when we meet with open ears
we’re upgrading democracy for free
for those whose feet will walk where their wild hearts and discerning minds direct
showering fountains of strength that catalyse cataracts of loving courage
sometimes, the snowflakes of feelings freeze in folly
mother-in-law and daughters-in-law get stuck in circles of thirst
well-meaning northern woodchoppers cause clear-cutting in the south
but still, one voice can change what’s possible and thunder-clear the air
and that kitchen community, huddled round ancestral hearths
can open that long-locked door of fear
and meet the wider world with wide mirror-smiles
And so it begins
And so begins the delicate task of expression
Boldly allowing the pen to tell us the tale
Giving free room to our inside wobbles
Pouring forth titles and chapters researched with
Years of treading upon this earth
I wonder how to speak and share myself
Showing my flutter-heart but
In this yearning for revolutions of minds
Striving to include
Striving to be included
There is a dance of trust here, a dance of clarity
The information clay is shaped and moulded
Into delightful curls and conjunctions
Will it form strong soil for blooming thought-flowers
In those who meet these phrases?
Will more emerge another day
To other listening voices?
If I keep the words inside I know a part of me will choke
My part unplayed, my song unheard
For like the birds I have my task
And I must spit and mewl and puke these drafts
And breathe and pause and sleep and dream
And scratch and further form
Until they stand
Humming their harmonies for all to hear
Released from the tended gardens of my soul
Hear more of Simric Yarrow’s poems on SoundCloud and visit his website here.
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Related Posts
Friday’s Poetic Pause: “Things We Don’t Know Yet” by Tara Mohr
Friday’s Poetic Pause: “When Sorrow Comes” by A. Powell Davies (about the Gwai Grandmothers)
