Flash in the Pan

A Quarterly Posting at Tiny Lights

Fruition Heart Song: Poetic Prose

by Carolyn Reed Hanks

"The best people are like water
They benefit all things
And do not compete with them
They settle in low places,
One with nature, one with Tao."

(Tao 8)

It is winter here. I came hurtling
Through the tropic of Capricorn
One night and found myself
Standing on this northern fringe
of the world, my breath an icy vapor
in the air. I have come through seven
years of my life to find two friends
and they are here.

I am resolved to be rational about
the beauty of this northern clime,
and not give myself over to excesses
of ecstasy, as I am wont to do. I shall
mark the coming and going of the blue
jays, without letting the world reel me
into a mad dance; I shall observe the
icy crystals in a spider's web without
going blind.

I seek the warmth of the sun. But this
Wind is shocking me out of a habit of
Languor, and is making my blood race
faster against its own mortality.

I was given a lighted lamp, a sacred
trust from a long way back. All I ask
is to pass it on, and know that
I have done so.

The poet Tagor writes: "The child
finds its mother when it leaves her
womb. When i am parted from you...
I am free to see your face."

This is the
Tension between ourselves and the
World; we seek to be one with it
But we cannot perceive its beauty
until we are exiled from it. The wonder
is not that the beauty is there; the
wonder is that we occasionally have
the wits to perceive it.

Let me bestir myself and go walking
In search of he sun. It is enough that
There are people going and coming,
Unwinding the mysterious threads of
their karma. I shall follow the snowy
rutted path along the stream outside
my door, and not care where it leads me.

I am a wanderer
who, expecting to sleep in the fields, finds
an inn with a warm bed and a welcoming
host. My life is full of miracles. If my
lover does not return, he will surely send
a message with his kinsman; if my
friend breaks the thread of trust, my
hope will find its unseen way, and I will
forgive and be forgiven. I bind a wound,
and my pain will find surcease at the
next turn in the road.

Carolyn Hanks is a published poet and visual artist with work in private collections and a gallery. Her main interest is writing. 

Nineteenth Flash

Ode To Momma And The Stages Of Grief by Laura Blatt
Off Mulberry Lane by Janet Jennings
Jigsaw Puzzle by Ray Scanlon
Googling Myself by Arlene L. Mandell
A Hard Road by Mike Berger
Wildflower Field by Lynda Crane

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