little treasures

Retrieving luggage I left behind in my hurry to leave last August, I have come across some little treasures. Naturally, I’m thrilled to find a spring time purse, some clothes, and belts. But the other things— photos of trips, pictures of my old home and cats and family, letters from my friends, all of these were abandoned by me.

Reclaiming them is like finding myself all over again.

And that’s what every day is about lately, the pull back into myself and who I am.

Hope everyone is doing some of the same. In the meantime, this poem by Dylan Thomas has been playing in my head. Enjoy.

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.
The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

The hand that whirls the water in the pool
Stirs the quicksand; that ropes the blowing wind
Hauls my shroud sail.
And I am dumb to tell the hanging man
How of my clay is made the hangman’s lime.

The lips of time leech to the fountain head;
Love drips and gathers, but the fallen blood
Shall calm her sores.
And I am dumb to tell a weather’s wind
How time has ticked a heaven round the stars.

And I am dumb to tell the lover’s tomb
How at my sheet goes the same crooked worm.

2 responses to “little treasures

  1. Bella Perla,
    That poem is one of my favorites-thanks!
    Love you,
    Cheryl

  2. I have every intention of planting flowers below my front porch tomorrow. The gardener returns to the soil.

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