I ... entered the poem of life, whose purpose is ... simply to witness the beauties of the world, to discover the many forms that love can take. (Barabara Blackman in 'Glass After Glass')

These poems are works in progress and may be updated without notice. Nevertheless copyright applies to all writings here and all photos (which are either my own or used with permission). Thank you for your comments. I read and appreciate them all, and reply here to specific points that seem to need it — or as I have the leisure. Otherwise I reciprocate by reading and commenting on your blog posts as much as possible.

23 April 2009

Working (April Challenge 22)

Prompt: Work

Working (1)

I never have hobbies.
Sooner or later I turn them all
into professional skills.
Usually sooner.

Except for reading.
But that’s like breathing –
not a hobby,
a necessity for life.

The rest I teach or sell.
Hand-made tank tops
when the kids were little,
sold through a local shop;

crochet lessons,
classes in my home
(I’ve still got the patterns
and templates somewhere);

and now, psychic reader
these last 20 years,
after the first, hesitant, long-ago
dabblings in Tarot;

and healer
and witch –
treatments, lessons,
ceremonies, spells.

Always too, along the way,
the writing workshops,
performances, articles, reviews,
and books, my books.

Even reading, after all.
I was 18 years a librarian;
I tend to forget that.
And now an editor.

None of it made me rich
but I always vowed to work
only at what I loved.
And so all of it makes me rich.

Working (2)

Today I might be
a column of light

a conduit
for trapped spirits

perhaps I’ll be given
someone’s heart
to touch and mend

or a soul to inspire
with words not mine
spoken through me

a lost animal
needs to be found
or a friend protected

a stranger saved from death
or helped there gently
another healed of wounds

occasionally even
a battle
seldom alone

I never know
the next of these tasks
until it’s upon me

the invisible work
beside and beneath
the mundane.


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