On the silent retreat, I got some time and space to write poetry, which I haven’t done in a while and also time to rework some works in progress.
Here is a piece from that weekend:
“I just want to find my niche”
said she
as she tried that spot
down by the sea
with the breeze, and the trees
and the bees that fly
in the blue, blue sky
… but it turns out rhyme wasn’t her thing
so she tried a dark cave
dimly lit with candles,
strange symbols covering the walls
but she spent the time trying to figure out
what it all meant anyway,
and wondering why she wasn’t (actually) mystical
next she tried the mountain,
sitting on high,
overlooking the great expanse of the world,
the twinkling lights of humanity stretched out before her
but she just got overwhelmed by what everyone else was doing
(and so much better than her)
so she retreated home,
and it was curled up in her chair,
warm rug on her feet
hands wrapped around a hot black tea
that she finally knew
this,
this is me.
Jodie McCarthy
July 2014