To begin a month which, in the northern hemisphere, grows dark early, forcing us to hold meagre candles against the creeping half-light, I think a poem appreciating mystery (my theme for November) is appropriate.
I would like to thank The Violet Hour (an evocatively liminal-sounding title for a blog) for bringing this poem to my attention…
The stories we live in, my stories and yours,
knit from the wool of our ancestors,
spun on family helixes,
hold our worlds together – for a span.
Garments of swaddle and comfort,
patterns set in warp and weft,
bequeathed by “her” story and “his”
name, tribe, role and fate.
Graciously they wear thin, these stories;
shiny with overuse, one strand tears, and another,
until the fabric falters
under the weight and stock of incarnation.
Stories that once held worlds together
rip and split so that we can fall –
shredded and unraveled –
Here there is nothing;
nothing, but to wait
in the expanse of silence.
Wait until new fibers accrue
and the cosmic force returns
to thrust a greening axis
into the center
and possibility is reborn.
I used to prefer the old stories
with familiar beginnings and ends,
comforted by convention;
the liminal darkness, the unknowing averted.
But now, at last, I am curious
or perhaps have simply lost my place.
I slip between worlds,
into the darkness,
into the spacious silence,
to wait for the opening line
of a story that has never been told,
a story that begins with a smooth round
circle of breath –
the story that truly begins with
… Joyce Pace Byrd,
Poems From The Labyrinth
- Mermaid’s Wish (brownsugarbreakfast.wordpress.com)
- LiminalVoice meets Norfolk voyeur. Stop by for a little read of Marsha’s story. (liminalvoice.wordpress.com)
- The Liminal: (jesslongstart.wordpress.com)
- Enviroment & Context: Liminal zones (tinamacleod1994.wordpress.com)
- Energies of Now: Swimming in Intensity, Evoking the Liminal (sophiaschildren.wordpress.com)