I want to shelter deep within your heart
for I am part of you, as you of me:
there is no shelter when we are apart
I want to shelter you within my arms
from a thousand thousand worldly cares
in silence, as we listen to the wind’s song
nine moons I sheltered you beneath my breast,
I wrote these songs while you lay sleeping on my chest
I shelter you within this nest of redbrick
I hear the wind sing with a mournful lullaby, while
we sleep in peacefully within the cyclops’ eye
of a storm from which there may well be no shelter
within my heart
within my arms
beneath my breast
for peace, in love and hope we rest
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Written for earthweal
For this week’s challenge, Brendan asks us to write of shelter:
You can address any of these questions, or come up with any of your own:
- Where do you find shelter?
- How do you create shelter?
- Do you share your shelter, and how?
- What have your learned from our wild mother about shelter, nesting, dens?
- What is it to journey, finding only temporary shelter at day’s end?
- What does homelessness teach us about shelter, or the abandonment of homeland by the refugee or the yearning for homecoming by the prodigal?
- When does shelter become the greedy cloak of invisibility?
- How would you compose (or recompose) the Biblical manger scene depicting the birth of Christ?
- How are poems shelters?
- What does it mean to be “safe” and “sound”?
- What shelter can we offer others in this uprooting time? How do we spread the canopy?
Let’s construct an earthweal shelter!