I shall remember this hour
reading in my garden chair,
sheltered from the scorching sun
as pale butterflies dance above.
The Green Man turns my gaze
to the giant kale leaves beside me,
planted deep in the soil of truth.
I watch in wonder as hundreds
of light-and-dark caterpillars
eat a journey of one inch,
until each leaf comes to resemble
a green lace handkerchief.
Inside his poem I found the answer
to my life’s vocational quest.
Of how to find peace
for a heart filled with pain,
how to ease suffering
and heal unhappy memory.
For years I explored these questions,
the journey was a long one,
yet here was one who knew mystery
and what glorious company he kept,
for in that moment,
I solved my innermost puzzle.
It was in her ancestry,
the longing to tend and herd.
Being the daughter of a shepherd
she knew why Arcadia pulled her.
Knowing her family began there,
she longed to return to her spirit land,
to deep harmony and highlands,
a vision of unspoiled wilderness.
To restore a branch of her family tree
and move in peace upon its mountains.
Home may be where the heart is,
yet hiraeth was calling her soul home.
“The truth was a mirror in the hands of God. It fell, and broke into pieces. Everybody took a piece of it, and they looked at it and thought they had the truth.” ~ Rumi
As a poet I love Rumi,
I love the weight of his words,
of how the mirror breaks
and many different versions
of truth grow within the family.
Within ourselves too.
A liberated sheep in a post Shepherd world,
poetic landscape of the soul
is my version of truth.
From fifteen to fifty,
a life-changing metamorphosis
which I faithfully recorded.