I was delighted to be featured on the WordPress Discovery page for my post: What Remains, this month. As a result, the traffic to my site has been almost overwhelming.
I thank the WordPress editors for choosing me, but I’m especially grateful to all those bloggers who took time to visit and comment on my post, offering their take on the subject.
While I’ve never been motivated by the number of followers or how many ‘likes’ I receive, it’s validating to know people read my offerings and get something from them. This is one of my main motivations for posting and what makes blogging so satisfying for me.
Another reason is the community that blogging gives one access to. Exposure to new ideas, new cultures, perspectives and people. The people are paramount, and I feel I’ve made many friends since I began to blog nearly three years ago. The generosity of fellow bloggers who offer comments of encouragement, appreciation and hope, is beyond any expectation I held.
With that in mind, I’d like to share a poem I wrote based on the Discovery post called What Remains. I wrote it because a blogging buddy suggested I might rework some of my posts into poems. He even used examples to show how this might be done. Thank you Albert! His site is worth visiting. And thank you to all the other bloggers and friends who have supported me since I began.
Settling damply on bare skin.
Chiming birdsong and insect whirr
The heaving heartbeat of the bush,
Breathing in, breathing out, the eons.
Vines scramble over fallen stones,
Clinging to the past, grasping at the present.
Crossing the threshold from clamour
Into dimmed hush,
I’m compelled to whisper.
A trespasser summoning up the past,
Stumbling over another’s aspirations.
Ghosts murmur softly.
I turn, prickling under their accusing gaze.
No one is there.
Ancient memories, a soft mantle on my consciousness,
Just beyond reach.
Jewelled parrots watch.
Giving me a start.
Forever captive in a stained-glass window,
Miraculously intact among the ruins.
Memories seep through crevices, through cracks,
Pooling in lazy puddles of light.
Old desires bled out among the rubble.
Now, no more than desiccated shells.
What remains but broken vanities.
The heady making of a life
They thought never would end.
A derelict stone cottage, abandoned, bereft.
Until what remains is …
Then is, no more.