24 Poems ~ 24 Hours
To the Petitioner
Your words pour
like libation
upon a shrine
upon the bosom of a goddess
as from an ancient gourd
in the hands of an old dibia.
But, is that resignation I see
in your downcast eyes?
Let your libation
flow unhindered
for this deity
the inhabitant of this shrine
shall in time heed
and shall your petition grant.
Take delight in
this Day! There is
majesty in this moment and Joy!
Celebrate Joy
in the seen and the Knowing of
the Joy of Unseen things.
My anticipation of Day
breaks like Sunrise.
Spreading Light,
colours fill
my senses and awaken
my Soul.
In stillness, I
wander winding paths
sensing the unseen my senses
are awakened
by heavenly scents of pine and honeysuckle bloom
Birdsong gently breaks through
my reverie-
Soothed by the lyrical sounds
my vision rests on branches
sheltering nests of the Unseen
gentle reminders of the Beauty and Joy
of the Unseen.
Poem 2, Hour 2 by Ingrid Exner 2021 Poetry Half Marathon
Kindness of strangers-9am
I’ve been walking all night
trying to find the right spot
no-
the perfect spot.
this will do, as I climb up
intent on this-
mission I’m on
no one will care
two quick swipes
hard enough to draw
the crimson relief
I need so badly
I need the other one
to complete-
but what’s this?!
a prick of alarm?
How can that be?
I’m intent on this mission
Aren’t I?
Maybe thinking wouldn’t
hurt so bad right now
Sliding down
slivers cutting into
my back
the wind’s picking up
sweeping past with a purpose
Hopeless I say aloud
as I start to cry
How’d I get to this point?
miserable
hurting
bleeding
alone
Jesus help me please
I’m bleeding
I’m scared
and I don’t
know how to hold on
There’s a begger coming
my way and I don’t know
if I have anything I can part with
Screw it. I’m wanting to
end my life
I got plenty.
He sat down next to me
took out a dirty rag and
started cleaning my wrist
“this wrist could be cleaned
a little better.”
I didn’t say anything and tried not
to cry.
In the middle of everything
going wrong
and nothing making sense to me
everyone treating me like a leper-
He was kind enough
to give me his dirty rag.
Alright, I have little experience on what
zen and running mean together other than
a new age catchy phrase to sell something.
I meditate sporadically, am not a Buddhist,
and stopped jogging several years ago
when my body said enough.
Of course, I have read the archery and
motorcycle maintenance books during a time
of discomfort as if there is ever a time of comfort.
Rarely during a jog, the quieting of my mind
would allow me to disappear into the serious
business of just existing.
I confess the best time of the run was
that moment of stopping as my
breathing finally begins to gain ground
on where I am and I am able to feel
a sense of satisfaction at completing
a necessary but arduous task of subsistence.
So, there you have it.
A little madness keeps you alive
Running is madness
Your reward
tiny breaks of bone
You have to remind yourself
to find balance
it feels like
learning to breathe again
its juggling
reminding you not to take more than you need
to get through the next steps
I am a baby again
aware
listening to what has been gifted temporarily for me
to use
this body
its
feeling
the energy flow to my fingertips
reaching for more
air
as I try to breathe normal
my body is fighting my mind
its my life story
They are hardly ever on the same page
I close that door of interference
this time
I am in my body
The mind isn’t being listened to
It had been calling me names
then asking me questions
like an abusive boyfriend
I can’t speak to it right now
I am too busy struggling to breathe
Beep… Beep… Beep
the alarm’s ritual has begun
before dawn arrives, waking me up
it fulfilled its duty and now it’s mine
The torch of greatness is in my hand
the torch flaming like never seen
each bead of sweat as fuel
the fire keeps burning bright
Snooze or Wake up? My hand deliberated
to stop this process or repeat again
a few more minutes or sleep?
worth risking waking up too late?
The flame slowly grew dimmer
fuel was running out
a little while and it’ll run out
putting the flame in a grave
I pulled down on the phone to wake up
snoozing isn’t an option anymore
I had to get on the road
my ritual is awaiting me
the torch is becoming lighter
I take a few steps forward, increasing my speed
beads of sweat form on my temple
the flame starts burning brighter
I pull up my socks and tie my shoes
hugging my legs, my shoes fill confidence in me
You can run for long, far, and wide
they silently scream into my leg
The flame is burning brighter
showing me the way forward
my heart rate is elated
and the music in my ears too!
The world is silent, yet to wake up
the birds asleep in their nests
and the dogs curled up on the road
There’s still time for the world to wake up
The trees blow gently on my face
Caressing and wiping the sweat
Each step burns the torch brighter
The torch of light is near its former glory
The sun shies behind towering mountains
The wind moves gently among the leaves
the sleeping snore in unison
breathing in… breathing out…
The torch is burning brighter
the warmth seeping to my own being
my heart feels at one with nature
breathing in… breathing out…
The sun peeks from behind the mountain
the wind makes a gentle sound
wake up, my dears- the trees sound
the birds begin their morning song
Nature’s pleasant alarm clocks, they are
waking up their fellows
my legs feel a soreness,
yet my heart wants to go on
10 kilometers, the app notifies me
it’s been a long run so far
yet I feel I haven’t gone far at all
my heart wants to race on over
The torch burns brighter and brighter
Each bead of sweat keeping the flame alive
the torch burns brighter
and it’s not going to ever die
–Surya T
I suspected that
You were inside me, hiding
But didn’t know how much
I’ll try to ignore
Tell myself I’ll be okay
As my tears run down
Summers Eve,
Light Sleep, dreaming of long nights,
Cool drinks, poolside,
Taking in the Cool breeze,
Listening-
To the whistle of the trees,
Children’s laughter,
Smelling-
Firewood burning, charcoal, grilling,
Enticed by what’s coming forth,
Relaxing the fun awaits.
I am small
so on particularly windy days
am propelled forward
by hidden hands
resetting my directional.
My body becomes a palette
of contortions-
A strange performance art
an awkward dance to meet
the unexpected acceleration.
Movement,
minus the self-imposed structure
we choose to expose to others.
But freed from that bondage
alone and one with the breeze
the invisible liberating the blinded
I see for the first time.
No matter how hard I try, I can’t stop the sun from rising.
I can’t stuff it back into the box it came in.
Or return to sender.
I asked the moon to work a double shift.
And even called gravity to retire early.
Nothing.
They are simply cogs in this machine of life, too.
The only thing left to do is learn to enjoy it.