Pine forest thrives in abundant lusty life

while every square inch new saplings press forth

striving for the heights of mom and dad

and every fertile place seems a sprouting point

till one cannot walk or wander without soft brushes

new needles like feathers against the flesh

 

still in the heart of it all is the empty place

small sad patch of yearning earth where nothing grows

no burning seed takes root in deep black living soil

bleak shadowed void posseses the hollow centre

defined by what is not, rather than what is

 

yet when I walk through the tearing tangle

it is this place that draws me above all else

this open space where I stop and breathe

here where I can stand and look heavenward

watch the Pleiades run their race in silent laughter

here sheltered from the ever-grasping branches

here is where I feel God and know that He feels me

while standing in the thinness of the sacred barren

 

Hollow hardened-steel heart is cold now

long since gone is the fashioning flame

beatless in the ever dark underneath

no hinge to open and hide a treasure

no seam or weld to show a space to fill

but a shape still that hints of honeyed hearth

a curve betrays purpose

and purpose betrays intent

and intent betrays the one who would intend

so good in the end that one would intend

 

I have written about Sappho before who I encountered in earlier reading last year. There are many things I appreciate about Sappho. The fact that she is the first western female writer (poet) is very compelling regardless of the quality of her writing. Writing originally in Greek and not having enough skill to translate directly myself I must rely on and hope for good translations. I most appreciate Sappho’s use of metaphor and imagery. Her themes and heart come very close to my own and in some ways it is deeply saddening that what we have of her poetry are mere fragments with only two complete. Ancient reports tell us that Sappho’s complete collection of poetry extended to 9 volumes of some 1,320 lines each for more than 12,000 lines or more in total. Of all that she has written we have only 2,000 lines today and most are fragments as I said earlier.

 

I will leave you with three very simple poem fragments that I deeply appreciate by Sappho:

 

You burn us

 

Now in my heart

I see clearly

a beautiful

face

shining back on me

stained

with love

 

Someone, I tell you, in another time,

will remember us.

 

this cracked rock is a grey ancient

worn and worn and worn

every wind and every rain

that every was and ever is and ever will be

buffets and beats

but rock is still there

old as earth and fire-born

black and cold now but once aglow

once a flame burned bright within

this old stone once flowed

blood red river of light carved

the flesh of mother earth

but memory fades from creation spark

black frozen as dead bones in the ground

still –

maybe the stuff of suns and stars still

sings within

maybe

 

it is breath blown that builds the perfect

clear sphere moves invisible

carrying rainbows in its skin

empty and naked to the eye

but filled with promise

driven by wind

to the skies and heavenward

gone to places alone

only to burst leaving an elemental exhale

far from the birthing place and home

while i stand and wonder

if only

if only

 

skinned rabbit walks with a shambling gait

careful treading across the uncloaked dawn

while every eye turns

while every eye spurns

saying "there is nothing naked on this green globe"

no one sees what no one wants to see

 

skinned rabbit sits midst the gathering masses

invisible and pained by every gentle breeze

as warm sun dries and cracks the broken flesh

singing cover me and clothe me in compassion

bind up my ever-ache with knit bands of love

that walking in the morn might bring joy again

 

lay low sleepy ones

under blanket of snow and earth

while the whirling wind takes talk of life

                              away, away

let rhythm of rock and stone lull

in the beatless slumber of bated breath

listen while the silent song whispers

 

quiet wait the unlistening ones

for the Word that heals the deaf

and stops the great endless exhale