Hold the light, it’s inside and will be there day or night
– sang Bert Sommer at the Woodstock festival.
I have no idea how it happens but when I am really resigned and I can not see the sun in my life, even if the sun shines outside the window. When the darkness wants to grab me, then unexpectedly something blue gives me a kiss.
Continue reading
the cherry blossom
has arrived
as if that is what
we were really waiting for.
from the poem “Cranes lean in” by Imtia Dharker
I’ve always liked to observe the world around me, but since I slowed down more because of a pandemic, I start to see my local piece more clearly. Every morning when I go out to do exercises by the river, I meet up over a dozen species of birds in twenty minutes. Before I usually heard the loudly screaming gulls like in a tube.
Continue reading
One day, I saw a tall tree on the sunny grass. Its taproots were so spreading so I decided to sit on one of them, and I rested my back on a warm trunk. It was so comfortable like sitting in an armchair and I felt great. Then I thought to go back to this tree every day, which unexpectedly became my companion.
Continue reading
The door to my house is blue. In the hall, yellow sneakers would like to go somewhere, but no one puts them on. Only the orange rocks from the painting by Roderic O’Connor look at them.
Continue reading
He is a painter, his job is to paint. For himself, for painting, because that is his vocation, because he would not be able to not transform what he sees into the painting works.
– wrote Henri Perruchot in the book “Cézanne”.
This is one of my favourite publications. It made me want to go to Aix-de-Provence, a small town in France, where a boy was born, who at the age of five scribbled with charcoal on the walls of what surrounding him, and people were surprised how realistic it was.
Continue reading
I run along the river, again. The morning flows under my skin. The sun sketches relief in grey cells.
Continue reading
When I make paper collages I cut out something from inside me: dreams, emotions, the future. Then suddenly I can walk on a lavender field in a green coat. Heathers grow out of my head. The cat smells like the sun.
Following my imagination, I am looking for what I miss.
Continue reading
A crow flies from tree to tree, and I want to contemplate his velvet wings. Meanwhile, the bird sits between the leafless branches on the background of the clouds. He is staring at me. Why spring is missing today? – I swallow my thought with the air and almost run along my dear path as if I were running away.
Continue reading
In the Galway University Hospital framed POEMS hanging for years.
Once, when we went to the Emergency Department with my husband, we were sitting in this waiting room with poetry around. And I remember that this little help of poems broke away us from the tension of fears.
At the moment we could cross the borders without moving.
So I strongly believe, that POETRY can be caring for us during a pandemic.
Continue reading
In my hut this spring,
There is nothing –
There is everything!
/Haiku, Jamaguchi Sodo/
Soft steps on the carpet, breathing, swallowing saliva, birds chirping, rain knocking on the window. I hear it when I sit down in meditation. My thoughts flow like boats on a rough ocean. Silence slowly measure an existence.
Continue reading