First of all, I'm not a poet. I haven't fancied myself one since my sophomore year at Morehead State when I realized I needed more words on a page to convey the thoughts in my head than poetry allowed. From that time on, if I wrote a poem, I have mostly hoarded them away for myself to pass on to my daughters someday. I want them to have little bits of their mama's heart. I never share them with others. However, last week I had an amazing experience with fellow writers at the Appalachian Writers' Workshop in Hindman, Kentucky. I was so inspired, encouraged, and supported during the week that I used a whole ink pen worth of ink and worked up a raw spot on my finger. I am convicted to live the writer's life once again. My heart was filled to the brim, and I'd like to share a poem I wrote during the week, just because. (Ether in this poem refers to a fifth element not the chemical anesthetic.) Following the poem are some pictures from my week. When Once AliveAwake. Feel alive.
So alive. Remembered that being human is dynamic with the reading of your words the sound of your breath Touch of your lips in a single moment forcefully rousing and sweet. A mnemonic for the essence of my spirit. Awake. Feel alive. Water. Energy. Rush over the rock - the fall Ancient Renewer just behind catch the mist under and inside brings you to your knees. Awaken. Wind. Wind bending trees scattering vultures across the sky like scraps of paper. Bring rain. Provoke chills. Take breath. Awake. Alive. Miles become real distance All the hurry forward and beyond creates a pull back. The beginning. Sleep. Sleep is familiar. Known as skin on the back of hands. Stay awake. Earth. Smell damp earth. Take it up and in. Make it part of every cell. Grow. Scented skin Scent my skin. The decay of past moments bring a new life. Grow. Let grow. Ground dampen my ground. Awake. Journeying and alive. Fighting sleep with every breath in heavy chest. Bring fire. Fire. Raging through lead. Consume. Refine get gold. Fire in the eyes. Fire in the belly. Sparks can ignite earth destined dry leaves. With the remaining flicker comes temptation. Burnout. I have to stay awake. The distance. Breathe. Release. Overdone. Over matched. Over played. Understood. Ether. I want to be drawn up into the ether like the crow lifts to the sky. Part effort. Part air. The ether will allow sleep where awareness becomes arbitrary.
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AuthorKelli Hansel Haywood is the mother of three daughters living in the mountains of southeastern Kentucky. She is a writer, weightlifter, yoga and movement instructor, chakra reader, and Reiki practitioner. Categories
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September 2021
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