"Poems, Prayers, & Promises" #7

Featuring Barbara Crooker and José Skertchly

Aug 09, 2023

Welcome to another day of “Poems, Prayers, & Promises”

Remember, you’re the co-creator of this dive. Do as much or as little as you’d like, when you’d like, how you’d like, with the materials I provide. Just keep gentle faith with yourself.

Set your intention

Take a moment to name the primary intention you have for this month-long deep dive and/or this particular session. Take a quiet moment to center yourself in that intention.

Enter the music

Read the poem

I invite you to read this poem twice—aloud, at least once. You may also listen to my reading of the poem, perhaps with your eyes closed.

1×

0:00

-1:52

Text within this block will maintain its original spacing when published


LISTEN
Barbara Crooker

I want to tell you something. This morning
is bright after all the steady rain, and every iris,
peony, rose, opens its mouth, rejoicing. I want to say,
wake up, open your eyes, there’s a snow-covered road
ahead, a field of blankness, a sheet of paper, an empty screen.
Even the smallest insects are singing, vibrating their entire bodies,
tiny violins of longing and desire. We were made for song.
I can’t tell you what prayer is, but I can take the breath
of the meadow into my mouth, and I can release it for the leaves’
green need. I want to tell you your life is a blue coal, a slice
of orange in the mouth, cut hay in the nostrils. The cardinals’
red song dances in your blood. Look, every month the moon
blossoms into a peony, then shrinks to a sliver of garlic.
And then it blooms again.


(found at this link)

Contemplate/Create

Use any of these questions however you wish—e.g., as openings for meditation or prayer, as prompts for journaling or poetry-writing, as sparks for drawing or painting, as catalysts for change-making . . . You may also ignore my questions altogether to go off in other directions!

The speaker of the poem seems to address the reader with a sense of urgency or deep desire: “I want to tell you something / . . . I want to say . . . / I want to tell you . . .” What might account for this urgent tone?
The speaker says “I can’t tell you what prayer is, but I can [do this, and do that].” How would you complete this same sentence? I.e., how can you express the essence of prayer without using (or in addition to using) a traditional prayer form?
How would you interpret “We were made for song”? What different “songs” do you see in the poem? Is there a connection in your mind between “song” and “prayer”?
Notice all the “color” words that accumulate late in the poem. What’s their effect on you? Are other colors also implied in the poem?
The poem is titled “Listen,” but, toward the end, it abruptly commands us to “Look.” What do you make of this shift?
Does your consideration of this poem move you to make any kind of promise to yourself or someone else?

Want to visit with other Rafters in the Deep Dive?

Here are two options: either leave a comment on this post using the button, or join the chat thread dedicated to this Deep Dive. (Note: if you haven’t created a Substack profile yet, you’ll be asked to do so before you can comment or chat.)

Join us ☀️September 5 (NOT August 5) for “Rafter Refuge”! (My mistake, initially announcing the wrong date.)

6:30-8:00PM Central (7:30 ET, 5:30 MT, 4:30 PT)

Let’s close this Deep Dive with a time of sharing. Come and reflect with other Rafters on “Poems, Prayers, & Promises.” Registration is required for this celebration.