Journey

Photo credit: earl53 from morguefile.com

The mouth of the river may be beautiful.
It doesn't remember the womb of its beginning.
It doesn't look back to where it's been
or wonder who ahead of it polished the rough stones.

It is following the way
in its fullness,
now like satin,
now cresting,
waters meeting, kindred
to travel gathered together,
all knowing it flows
one way, shining or in shadows.
And me, the animal
I ride wants to drive forward,
its longing not always my own,
overrunning its banks and bounds,
edgeless, pilling along the way

because, as I forget,
it knows everything
is before it.

~ Linda Hogan

Journey

Photo credit: earl53 from morguefile.com

The mouth of the river may be beautiful.
It doesn't remember the womb of its beginning.
It doesn't look back to where it's been
or wonder who ahead of it polished the rough stones.

It is following the way
in its fullness,
now like satin,
now cresting,
waters meeting, kindred
to travel gathered together,
all knowing it flows
one way, shining or in shadows.
And me, the animal
I ride wants to drive forward,
its longing not always my own,
overrunning its banks and bounds,
edgeless, pilling along the way

because, as I forget,
it knows everything
is before it.

~ Linda Hogan

Rapture

Pic credit: morguefile.com

Who knows the mysteries of the poppies

when you look across the red fields,

or hear the sound of long thunder,

then the saving rain.

Everything beautiful,

the solitude of the single body

or sometimes, too, when the body is kissed

on the lips or hands or eyelids tender.

Oh for the pleasure of living in a body.

It may be, it may one day be

this is a world haunted by happiness,

where people finally are loved

in the light of leaves,

the feel of bird wings passing by.

Here it might be that no one wants power.

They don't want more.

And so they are in the forest,

old trees,

or those small but grand.

And when you sleep, rapture, beauty,

may seek you out.

Listen. There is

secret joy,

sweet dreams you may never forget.

How worthy the being

in the human body. If,

when you are there, you see women

wading on the water

and clouds in the valley,

the smell of rain,

or a lotus blossom rises out of round green leaves,

remember there is always something

besides our own misery.

~ Linda Hogan