For The Sunday Whirl prompt: Wordle 204
clay, sleep, tongues, powers, burns, wild,
dream, end, stolen, through, beginnings, am
The Other I Am*
The Other I Am is no longer
a secret kept by me, from or to
myself. Had her beginnings
in sleep. Born wild from clay
of dreams, where she learned
the power of tongues, speech.
Her small light burning
through stolen moments,
she thought might never end.
But together we have built a garden
where we meet each day to find
various ways of telling our story.
Elizabeth Crawford 3/22/15
Notes: Last week, I shared what I defined as a zen doodle. Those were done in small 3×5 sketchbooks. I did get a much larger sketchbook which I titled Morphology. In it, I drew free-hand, images I called Fantasies. They were done in India Ink, usually all in one color and were a combination of line-weaving, zen doodles, and just play. The image that introduces this poem is just such a fantasy, done about four years ago. I titled it My Secret Garden. I have been working on a compilation of poetry, with some prose, for almost a year now. Lots of fitful stops and starts. The zen doodles have helped immensely because I can use them to finish off pages where the poems are short. After working on that addition through the week, I checked out the Morphology sketchbook and really liked what I found there. The next day, I got the wordle list and the poem sort of wrote itself in less than 15 minutes. The book is titled, The Other I Am. That is taken from a Walt Whitman quote in Leaves of Grass, from the section titled Song of Myself.
*I believe in you my soul,
the other I am must not abase itself to you
And you must not be abased to the other