mindfulness poems

“Fall Sanctuary” by Kory Wells

~ jama ~ 30 Comments

“Within you there is a stillness and sanctuary to which you can retreat at any time and be yourself.” ~ Herman Hesse

“Fireflies” by Michael Creese.
FALL SANCTUARY
by Kory Wells

                  ~ after Jeff Hardin

I slept in a room that glowed with fireflies,
though it was late autumn on a frosty bluff
high above Lost Cove. The room was a salve
of spun honey and light, and a hundred
little windowpanes gauzed with tranquility.

In a wide bed I slept alone, surrounded
by pillows and books, by poets I love.
In the night I lit a candle and a tiny string of lights
against the darkness. They were a comfort.
So was the darkness.

Outside I found an astonishment of stars,
a clear sky, spangled and deep.
How long had it been since I’d seen the stars?

This is how I fell asleep: my skin on soft cotton,
my body awaiting the gentle touch of fireflies,
their silent sparks. This is how I awoke:
unencumbered and enthralled, the early sun
casting over the mountain autumn into my room,
casting through the morning chill a stained-glass chapel,

                                    a splendor of stillness, stirring.
 
~ from Sugar Fix (Terrapin Books, 2019)
“Night in the Forest” by Eva Nev.

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This lyrical gem provided me with a welcome moment of calm and beauty in these uneasy, turbulent times.

I especially love the “hundred little windowpanes gauzed with tranquility” and the “astonishment of stars,” feeling as though I was right there in the room, levitating in this sacred space, away from trouble and noise.

Wells’s use of light — glowing fireflies, starlight, candlelight, and finally, the rising sun — gives me hope, though even the darkness, she says, can be comforting.

I am reminded that in those instances when we aren’t able to physically retreat from the world, we can always find solace in the embrace of a luminous poem like this, or perhaps, within.

What does your fall sanctuary look like?

“Silver Pheasant in Autumn Forest” by Asia Spettel.
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two poems from the wonder of small things

~ jama ~ 14 Comments

“Sometimes, love looks like small things.” ~ Tracy K. Smith

I’m a big fan of James Crews’s poetry anthologies and often dip into them whenever I need a calming moment of reflection or a fresh dose of inspiration.

His third and most recent book, The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace & Renewal (Storey Publishing, 2023), contains some especially delectable food-related poems, two of which I’m sharing today.

Both poets pay homage to their Italian grandmothers, recalling childhood memories that continue to sustain and nourish.

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“Grandma’s Kitchen” by Lisa Pastille.
THE LESSON 
by Paola Bruni

On Sundays, Grandmother alight on the altar
of making and I, only old enough to kneel
on a wooden chair beside her, watched.
From the cupboard, she unearthed a dusky
pastry board, flour formed into a heaping crater,
the center hollowed. Eggs, white as doves. Salt.
Cup of milk, fragrant and simple. No spatula.
No bowl or mixer. Just a pastry board
and Grandmother's naked, calcified fingers
proclaiming each ingredient into the next.
She murmured into the composition
until the dough fattened, perspired, grew
under her ravenous eye. A rolling pin
to create a still, quiet surface. Then, the point
of a sharp knife chiseling flags of wide golden noodles.
For days, the fettuccini draped from wooden 
clothing racks in her bedroom under the scrutiny
of Jesus and his Mother. Mornings, I slipped
into Grandmother's bed, dreamt about eating noodles
swathed in butter and the sauce of a hundred
ripe tomatoes roasted on the fire.

~ from The Wonder of Small Things: Poems of Peace and Renewal, edited by James Crews (Storey Publishing, 2023).

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