Skip to main content

WRECKAGE by Tammy T. Stone

This poem was inspired experiences I’ve had exploring the ancestral wisdom that lives inside us all...

... and the lineage of connection that binds us to our own history, in all the glory and also terror this can evoke. Some of our connections live within our memories and conscious minds, and others lay buried deep within, going back generations and generations, waiting for our attention, love and even redemption.

Sitting with our hearts with the intention of plumbing the depths and going beyond what we’ve known to be our reality thus far, to discover more about who, how and why we are is a beautiful, if heart-rendering part of growth.
Photography by Tammy T. Stone

Wreckage
By Tammy T. Stone

On a misty evening past rain,
with dusk giving way to the
blanket of a cloudless night, I
lower my head, as though
for a moment I can turn
away, and wait for the
voices to come wafting
up from the ground, through
open windows onto hollowed
land. The night is long. I would not hide:
I cannot resist their cries the
way bamboo hushes to withstand
the rough winds of a stormy
afternoon. I tremble under the weight
of their pleas; my heart has songs
in it they have heard countless
times before, a refuge for
dreams torn and plundered.
We merge within the vast,
cracked landscape of my
chest, hoping, together, to appease
long, stranded generations, if
for a moment. It comes to this:
the piercing shrieks of
the wounded clawing deep
within until I fall to my knees,
begging forgiveness, for midnight’s
love lost, searching wildly for
nature’s arms, for love enduring,
to let them fly, and free them
from the wreckage and release
me like a soft forest creature
fumbling in fright through the
war of first night into the
fragile new light of day.
Photography by Tammt T. Stone



Tammy T. Stone is a Canadian writer, photographer and chronicler of life as it passes through us. Always a wanderer, she's endlessly mesmerized by people, places and everything in between; the world is somehow so vast and so small. She feels so lucky to have been able to work, learn, live and travel far and wide, writing, photographing and wellness-practicing along the way. She invites you to see some of her recent photography here and to connect with her on her writer's pagetwitter and her blog, There’s No War in World, here.




~If you are interested in seeing your poetry appear in this blog, or submitting a poem by a woman that has inspired you, please click here for submission guidelines. I greatly look forward to hearing from you!~


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

IMAGINE A WOMAN by Patricia Lynn Reilly

  This poem invites you to look upon yourself with loving kindness… Gazing at your own true reflection, you will discover that everything you have longed for “out there” is already within you! I invite you to love your creativity fiercely. Faithfully plant seeds, allowing under-the-ground dormant seasons, nurturing your creative garden with love and gratitude. In the fullness of time, the green growing things thrust forth from the ground. It's a faithful, trustworthy process. AND it takes time and patience.  Blessed is the fruit of your creative womb! I invite you to trust your vision of the world and express it. With wonder and delight, paint a picture, create a dance, write a book, and make up a song. To give expression to your creative impulses is as natural as your breathing. Create in your own language, imagery, and movement. Follow no script. Do not be limited by the customary way things have been expressed. Your creative intuition is original. Gather

IMBOLC by Caroline Mellor

The inspiration for this poem came after I watched a magical winter sunset and full moonrise from the top of Firle Beacon in the South Downs... Unusually for me, I wrote the poem quite quickly and changed it very little before publishing it – perhaps the energies were working through my pen! Imbolc is the mid-point between the winter solstice and the spring equinox. It’s a fire festival which I particularly love because of its associations with Brigid, the Celtic Mother Goddess of arts and crafts, clear sight, healing, inspiration and nurturance of creative talents – something which, through my writing, I am always trying to connect with.  I also love Imbolc because, with so much darkness and negativity in the world today, it is a time for hope, potential, visioning and initiation. With love and blessings as the light returns. Photography by Chanel Baran IMBOLC    by Caroline Mellor I am the dream of awakening. I am the returning of the night.  I am the tough green

WINTER SOLSTICE: A GIFT OF LOVE by Carolyn Riker

I’ve had several days now of alone time… It is unusual and a gift that I couldn’t see until I breathed it. I have been able to watch the sun’s rise through the grey of dawn and smile at the flickers of frost melting on the waving boughs of evergreen. It’s unique to follow daylight as it traverses the tempo of a cat’s soft slumbering purr. Night comes swifter and the glow of candles and the flames of fire comfort me more than the steady stream of always-doing-more. As much as I resisted, I needed this break. I had no idea how much my body was trying to tell me   slow down   until the exhaustion settled in around my joints. My eyes swam in molasses. Heaviness of I-can’t-hold-out-much-long, walked me to the throne of my nest. It’s winter’s gift of self-nurturing and love. It’s been a quiet proclamation of femininity and a need for comfort foods. Lemon crisps and cranberry, white-chocolate shortbread dipped in tea; I felt a hint of being pampered without