morning translation
in that slow morning translation
from unknowing to knowing
when sound distills into voices—
my best-beloved
caught mid-laughter, some joke I can’t make out
and the gentle thud of dream
blossoming into footsteps racing toward the smell of breakfast
knowing they’ll save a place for me at the table
will it be much different
waking under heaven’s roof?
—ZW
and here is something of a companion song to the above poem… it was written by one of my favorite singer-songwriters, Karen Peris, of the innocence mission. I especially love the ending lyrics which trail off in an almost drowsy description of sounds while falling asleep in a beloved house…
hearing your voice in the house
oh, I am near to sleeping, I am keeping awake
lying in this house, in someone's arms
my bed is held in someone's arms
I am, I am held now
in the house
in the heart of paper vines
and Junie runs into her room
next to mine, dancing
and we are all in for the night
talking is coming
is coming up over the stairs
and you're coming over the stairs
the stairs…
and this might go without saying, but my intention here—with this space—is to share music, poetry, ponderings on creative and spiritual life, and things that have been inspiring for me… somewhere I can explore different themes, and invite others into the musing, contemplation, questions, humor, and hopefully some conversations… I want to share my work and to write things I mean here.
relatedly, if you have the time, this is a wonderful essay/thought exploration of the apparent absurdity and necessity of learning (reading poems, writing, studying, etc) during conflict/war-time and uncertainty.
maybe lemme know any thoughts, memories, images, experiences these bring to mind…
peace,
Zach