The Wild Woman Crafts Gardens Out of Her Wounds

 “Birds sing after a storm; why shouldn’t people feel as free to delight in whatever sunlight remains to them?” – Rose Fitzgerald Kennedy

The world weeps

for the Wild Woman.

“Your blooming days are gone,

they tell her. “Life gutted you

and Death is flying in to fill

your sky, balance

dangling from its beak. You are

afraid of the end, we

understand you just too well.”

The Wild Woman shows how

she has crafted gardens out of her wounds.

But the world’s eyes are wept shut. Still,

the Wild Woman speaks her truth, and hopes

for working ears:

“I don’t fear the fall—
a forest is not afraid
of decaying leaves”

The world weeps and weeps

for the Wild Woman

they can’t see.

September, by Cat Schappach

a not-so-wee note…

- since I know that some of us are much too human to keep from drawing certain conclusions out of poetry, I should clarify that I am not dying just yet (at least, not more than any other living thing). This poem was inspired by a recurrent theme in my life: the way some people continue to tell me that they understand why I would want to curse the whole world. I keep telling them that I don’t want to curse the world—certain presumably human creatures? Maybe. But not the world—I enjoy the world. Projection is a curious thing. I do wonder how much happier some of us would be if we took the time to see, accept, and embrace the reality in front of us, and dwell less in the doom and gloom preconceptions can paint over our eyes.

- for Poets United Poetry Pantry (498) and Sanaa’s Weekend Mini-Challenge: Take a chance and step into the mythical realm, at the Imaginary Garden with Real Toads (find a piece of art… and create your own poetic mythology around it).