Food for the Soul | August 5th, 2020
8/5/2020
Dear Friends,
I am into my first week of vacation. Did you know that the word “vacation” comes from the expression “to vacate”, i.e. to empty, to let go. That seems to be just what I am trying to do. Maybe you too.
May your life be a PRAYER and may this POEM give you something to savor and to meditate on. PRACTICE: Try to write down what is in your heart.
On How to Pick and Eat Poems
Phyllis Cole-Dai
Stop whatever it is you’re doing.
Come down from the attic.
Grab a bucket or basket and head for light.
That’s where the best poems grow, and in the dappled dark.
Go slow. Watch out for thorns and bears.
When you find a good bush, bow
to it, or take off your shoes.
Pluck. This poem. That poem. Any poem.
It should slip off the stem easy, just a little tickle.
No need to sniff first, judge the color, test the firmness –
you can only know it’s ripe if you taste.
So put a poem upon your lips. Chew its pulp.
Let its juice spill over your tongue.
Let your reading of it teach you
what sort of creature you are
and the nature of the ground you walk upon.
Bring your whole life out loud to this one poem.
Eating one poem can save you, if you’re hungry enough.
Take companions poem-picking when you can.
Visit wild and lovely and forgotten places, broken
and hidden and walled up spaces. Reach into brambles,
stain your skin, mash words against your teeth, for love.
And always leave some poems within easy reach for
the next picker, in kinship with the unknown.
If ever you carry away more poems than you need,
go on home to your kitchen, and make good jam.
Don’t be in a rush, they’re sure to keep.
Some will even taste better with age,
a rich batch of preserves.
Store up jars and jars of jam. Plenty for friends.
Plenty for the long, howling winter, plenty for strangers.
Plenty for all the bread in this broken world.
From Poetry of Presence: An Anthology of Mindfulness Poems
Phylis Cole-Dai & Ruby R. Wilson, Editors