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Remember this Day

18/11/2013

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Remember the time
The hour even
When it all turned around

It was a soft Wednesday in October and the air was crisp.
Blue skies hung above with wind blowing; shifting clouds that cast dancing shadows along the grassy terrain.

The old familiar under-layer
Relax.  First relax deep, then the anger is there like a defence to keep out.
A warning that there is a difficult trail ahead.

Accept it.
Embrace it.
Use it.
Meet it head on like a great wave roughly tumbling a ship at sea

Must move past
See what lies beneath
Seems to be deep grief

So much sadness
So much pain
So much suffering
Buried beneath a red hot inferno of rage that lashes out at all it can

Let go
Let me go
Take a seat
There is a slight breeze on this autumn day and it brings the spirits out to help

Listen carefully to this whispering
Let go of the anger
Letting go of the grief
The present awaits...

Remember this day
When you learned to pay attention
When you no longer needed to run away

No focused gaze but a soft set of eyes accept all there is to see.  From the corner moves something.

Orange and brown leaves tumble down from the trees preparing for winter.  We layer up whilst they strip down.

A pair of small dogs come and yapp you back to reality but everything has changed.

Remember this day.
When first you found that portal to calm seas.
When no longer did anger grief and grief hide fear.

Nothing to fear.
Nothing to lose

No expectation
No suppositions

Only a flow which has every life connected and going along like those breezy clouds in the ever-changing sky.
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    Douglas Karson

    I love poetry.

    It can be whimsical or epic, unbearably long or just two memorable lines, mature and dark or light and childish.

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  • home
  • Art
    • Original Inks
    • the RULES
    • Portraits
  • poetry
  • about
    • Keep Art It
    • Online Gallery and Commissions
    • Contact
    • manifesto
    • bio/photos/cv
    • exhibition clips
    • portfolio link pdf
    • press coverage
    • links
    • Art Battle
  • Shop