Undercurrents of a weeping world
swirl above black waters
beneath the trees, I whisper pleas
I love you
Eddying down to who-knows-where
the eye of a storm’s dead certainty
with death, the singularity
that takes you
Flowers float the River Styx
The Ferryman emerges from
a three-decades-long mist, insists
I’ve missed you
I light a candle in a cell
leave blooms before the river’s swell
the only truth I have to tell:
I love you

Written for earthweal
For this week’s challenge, Brendan asks us to:
attune to one or more of the world’s changing voices in a poem. Tell us about a memorable storm or fire or other natural calamity you witnessed, as both external and internal event. Or describe the empty space left by an animal lifeform now extinct, like the Chinese river dolphin or ivory-billed woodpecker: how does that absence affect the time’s melodies? What new symphonic textures are found in lengthening seasons and strange new currents? How do the mind’s colors change, how does the heart sing, where do the ghosts gather and how does the instrument sound using a profoundly changing bow? And where is the hope? How would you address these insights for time, as in a note left on a table for one’s children’s or rolled in a tight scroll and squeezed into a bottle to set on the tide.
The sound is grievous but the message is hope: Out of what wood and gut could such a lyre be fashioned?
I could only really think of my mother at this time, who died 32 years ago yesterday, at the age of 32. I suppose for me, hope for the earth, and indeed for all things, lies in the love which makes some measure of grief almost inevitable.
Wow – I am both chilled and inspired by your poem. It carried me out of the mundane world of everyday concerns those deeper currents that swirl within our hearts.
Thank you, Suzanne – I am trying to make some kind of contact with that otherworld.
Going deeper is the best response to these times I think when so many live on the surface.
It can be hard to look beneath the surface, but I think it’s worth it!
truly beautiful moving poem
Thank you!
This is so poignant, Ingrid. Nature, our world, other worlds. . .sensing those undercurrents.
There must always be that feeling of “what if?”
Sending you hugs.
Thank you Merril 🤗
You’re welcome, Ingrid.
Soft in the music of this but sure too, that hope is borne by grief. Mother’s milk, mother tongue, folk song, earth psalm, it’s the stuff we can’t live without
Thank you Brendan
A deeply personal penning drawing on mythological and other worldy guides.
Thank you Paul
A beautiful elegy Ingrid. You hold your mother close to you, and the natural world reflects your grief. There is no replacing that loss. Sending best, K.
Thank you Kerfe
Delicate rhyme and melody in this so much more than epitaph, Ingrid. Good to read you again.
Thank you, Hedgewitch!
Love this stanza:
“Flowers float the River Styx
The Ferryman emerges from
a three-decades-long mist, insists
I’ve missed you.”
Beautiful poem, Ingrid.
Thank you Sunra 🙏
Sucg a beautiful, elegaic and heart-stirring poem. Truly lovely. Love the photos too.
Thank so so much Sherry
An intriguing and multi-layered prompt. Your deeply personal response is beautifully crafted, Ingrid. 💞
Thank you Michele 💕
A deep and profound connection, this. Gorgeous write, Ingrid!
Thank you Jeff 🙏
Wow, love this Ingrid!
Thank you Kim!
Gorgeous poetry, Ingrid. wow
Thanks Jude 🙏
Beautiful x
Thank you Nick x
Oh damn … I posted a comment here yesterday … and it’s not here .. my computer was having the “hic-ups” … and I’ve forgotten what I said, but I do remember the song I selected for you …
https://youtu.be/lSnaQAv77JE
No worries Ivor – thanks for reading!
Such a beautiful poem and memory of your dear mother Ingrid. My heart holds you during this time of remembrance💞
Thank you, Cindy, I appreciate that ❤️
You’re sooo welcome Ingrid 💗
Beautiful the push and pull of this poem alongside its contrasting thought! <3
Thank you Jaya! ❤️
beautiful.
Thank you!
Beautiful and poignant, Ingrid. Lovely photo. <3
Thank you, Cheryl, I am glad you enjoyed this ❤️