Another tile I did today. I have been writing attempts at poetry the last few days. I have been down with seizures (I have very severe epilepsy) and I have been using drawing as a bit of therapy. I realized that I wanted to put a poem on the paper, but I was not ready to externalize the poem I had in mind, so I wrote it behind the drawing if that makes sense. Only bits of the poem are there and you can let your brain connect and complete the bits in between.
Today it was raining. That kind of soft, steady rain that seems more Irish than Central Californian. I found a little college campus area cafe that only had one other customer and really good coffee and decided to sit a while and draw. I didn’t expect to finish anything, and I certainly did not expect to write a poem. I have never been much of a poet. I wrote a little poetry in high school as most tragic pre-emos did, but not since then. I was thinking a lot about how the unknown is actually comforting to me. How some people feel the need to create an answer to difficult questions when no rational explanation can be found. I have always felt differently. I find the unknown comforting. For me, the idea that we are all connected to everything and actually part of the Earth’s evolutional process is more comforting than the idea that a deity hiccuped us into existence. I was also thinking (loosely and randomly) about the ego of the learning process and how losing that ego is really the only way to learn. Two hours later, I had a pen and ink drawing and poem down. An hour and a half of coloring and I had this…
The words brightly landed on my lap
trembling for purpose and reason
but no help could I give
for they were strange charmed quarks
stars of a nature I cannot comprehend;
I opened my hands – fingertips
untwining like vines
to embrace what I did not know
my soil fertile and waiting-
a seed planted firmly and fast
nourished by empty space and stars
that shivered with joy at it’s presence.
The answers I once thought I had
proved not enough and the seed grew
and flowered roughly – taking root
in the field of gray and blue;
colors I once believed alien and empty
now spread open, gradient and swirling,
arms like a galaxy – reaching for me.
A surprising comfort, this newness
complete and vast-
I welcome the path outward.