Wrestling With Gray



Ribbon highways tempt with destinations, 

bright electric exits without melancholy

brooding in the rear-view mirror.

 

I normally don’t look back,

mind rake my yesterdays

to garden good times, but

stuck in non-direction

even images of my overweight self

are sunlight on a monochrome Sunday.

 

Sitting at my table of wishes I watch

a cardinal through my window,

drink another cup of tea, and ponder

if a journey begins with a single step,

how do I reach Shambala by pacing quicksand?


©Susie Clevenger 2020


I was honored to have my photo as inspiration to spark poetry at The Sunday Muse.


Comments

  1. Oh I LOVE that closing stanza......wonderful!!!!!!!!

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  2. Love the idea of raking the past into the good times to come and feel that sense of time having stuttered like a needle and skipped several verses lately. But then I started asking--is Shambala not at the top of the mountain but in the letting go into the quicksand? Is this the way that I should go instead?

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    Replies
    1. Each of us has a different path in this pandemic, yet so much of it is the same in how we feel. I'm not sure how one thrives in quicksand, but I'm trying to reach higher ground.

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  3. Each line here is bright with vision even in the wrestling of what is to come. A glorious write for your amazing photography my friend! Thank you for giving us something wonderful to muse to this week Susie!

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    Replies
    1. Thank you. I so remember the day I took the photo. I couldn't have known the world would crash into immobile.

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  4. The thought of being stuck and the uncertainty of the next step, heightens my senses to just take a giant leap forward.

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  5. This: "mind rake my yesterdays

    to garden good times", so good.

    "how do I reach Shambala by pacing quicksand?" is a killer.

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  6. Raking yesterdays to garden good times is something I, alas, am far too guilty of... Thanks for sharing...

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  7. I love that last stanza. Thank you for sharing this photo with us.

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