I have a memory
of floating naked
breasts weightless
in bioluminescent water.
If water carries memory
does it remember
the woman I was
before she was lost?
Could it recall
those adventurous pieces of me
even now?
motherhood: a reckoning
an introduction
I have been working with kindred spirits for all of my life. So have you, I wager. Working with kindred spirits looks like: imagining objects as animate, allowing every aspect of nature to be a guide, sitting closely with writers, books, poets and poems that stir something deep within, believing there are unseen forces at play in every aspect of the creative process (it’s all creative process, isn’t it?)
I have sat with the notion of sharing this practice with you for quite some time. It feels deeply personal, which usually means there is a deep and worthwhile connection to be forged from sharing it with someone. So, for the next few weeks, I’m going to follow this pull to share my work with kindred spirits, in hopes of connecting with you over poetry on a deeper level.
Kindred spirits are the foundation of my work as a poet. They are the landscapes, more-than-human beings, books, poems, works of art, places and objects that alert me to a poem’s existence. As an example, if you’ve been reading The Poetry Journals for more than half a second, you’ve probably noticed that Lake Huron comes up a lot. That is because Lake Huron is one of my closest kindred spirits. I have spent many years of my life basking in, studying, and generally worshiping this magnificent body of water. Kindred spirits require and deserve a specific sort of attention, but note that the depth of attention required can and will vary based on each spirit and circumstance.
Lately, I have come to love the poems of Jim Harrison more ardently than ever. Below is a poem that has been a friend to me this summer, that I have returned to weekly for the past few months. I get something different out of it each time I read it. It lent a hand in a poem I’m slowly working on, which is odd for me- poems tend to pour out of me with little editing. I believe this is because when a kindred spirit comes knocking, I answer the call as immediately as possible (which I imagine is pretty irritating for the people I’m in close community with. I’ve checked out of many an important conversation to jot a poem down).
a prompt
Begin with “A (fill in the blank) lasts only moments, but underneath…”
I would love to know what sort of kindred spirits are knockin in your neck of the woods. A poem, a flower, a certain sort of cloud, a rusty old bike, whatever it may be.
This was very profound reading! Enjoyed every bit😀
I feel I am cultivating a kindred connection with Wind. I am currently living in a place that has somewhat constant wind. Intense gusts, and powerful movement in seemingly all directions. During the winter it felt as though I was in a snow globe, as out each window the snow was swirling in different directions. It has felt disruptive and overwhelming. But I have begun to listen. To notice HOW the wind is my kindred and what GIFTS Wind is offering. I am allowing and loving and becoming connected with the magic of Wind.