Meditations | Poetry 101 Rehab

Cold Winds

Meditations

I take my warmth with me,
fire-heated air against my legs
and arms, trapped by wool
skirts and long sleeves.

Cold air does not rise
unless wind-driven.
I hold my skirts in
place against breezes.

But still, warmth rises
as I, letting go my cloth
cocoons, raise my head,
searching out the stars.

Warm air rises from breath;
from around my neck, shirt
open to the colder air.
I walk on, renewing warmth.

Deliberation…meditation…
taking a path that offers
turns and stones and distant
trees, the aloneness speaks.

Chill solitude and dull
stars–and my own warm breath
and brightening spirit–open
my mind to the solitary voice

that answers me.
That is my Self.

Copyright © 2016-04-25, by Lizl Bennefeld.
All rights reserved.

Written for Poetry 101 Rehab, hosted by Andy Townend.
Prompt: Deliberation(s)

5 thoughts on “Meditations | Poetry 101 Rehab

      1. It made me reread several times. You have a special way with words alright. I loved the imagery it prompted for me.

        I’ve missed you and all much. This is my last week working full time plus. Told them starting in May I will work weekends only. Counting down the days until my creative tanks are refilled by time for myself in garden and studio, writing, making, doing, reading, family, etc…

        Hope you are well and look forward to catch up time. Xx

        Liked by 1 person

        1. Yeah, it’s all about the imagery. The idea of bringing my warmth with me came to mind when I first got up to take the puppies out, this morning at 7:00 a.m. The phrase still being at the top of my mind when they went into their kennels for their afternoon nap, I sat down and wrote it out, then worked it out.

          I have taken to wearing skirts, coming up on 70, because of their being less restricting and because they cover my ankles. Much as Al seems to dislike them. (“Everybody wears blue jeans and t-shirts”, he says.) And after decades of long hair, it feels good to get it cut off to a quarter of an inch, every six weeks. As my parents and my mother’s mother said about clothing “requirements”, it’s all just costuming, anyway.

          I don’t think, though, that I’ve much alluded to what I wear or don’t, when I write a “me” poem. It’s odd, how some things so strongly weld themselves onto self concept and others affect it not at all. So many things still, most likely never, attaching.

          Happy to know that you are clearing the deck for more joyous days and nights, come May. Looking forward to your frequency. Much love and best wishes to you and yours!

          Like

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