A literary column
By Marcia Diane
I thought to share this poem for our introduction to actual fall weather…this being for the October edition of RPT…I’m just sure we’ll be back in the fine, fine weather that we all live for down here.
It is what I’ll call inspirational poetry…I’m not sure if it qualifies as a separate genre, but really it speaks to all of us.
The poet is Anne Allanketner, she is a therapist, artist and poet. She says:
“Poetry, for me, is a kind of spiritual medicine. Its curative powers can influence how we feel and how we see things.
A good poem can stick with you.
Because poetry is so non-linear, it lands on us ‘all in one piece,’…”
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Loving The Odd Child
The everyday child needs socks and
sandwiches, her hair combed, yes
and time to play, people to love.
The everyday child needs constant care
from you
so keep her warm and kindly
sheltered, nourished, held.
But it’s caring for the odd one,
which makes us whole again, after long confusions, blundering
and wishing she was normal.
Love that little odd child,
and you will flower
in unexpected ways, veering off the path
that others gave you,
to carve new and tender
territory in the mysterious, dark wood.
Give that little odd child what she needs:
a softer lamp light, all day at the zoo,
art supplies for breakfast, an early exit
from the loud party.
Maybe she wants things you think
are strange.
But just believe in her, let her hold those
tiny tree frogs, let her climb down
off your lap
to gather strange objects, her weird collections…
Her need for books, her fear of people
crushing plants, her awkward dislike
of your friends, her terribly low
pain threshold.
Gather each of these up in time,
and kiss them.
Then put them down in front of her, loved.
This is the new path, taking you away
from normal and towards your SELF.
Towards the life you deeply long for,
towards the odd work, the odd lover,
the odd house.
You were afraid that if you gave into her,
there would be no end to it,
and that is true.
For the odd child
is a wild and tempting Shamaness,
who given an inch will rise up
dancing and gather you
in her arms and sing
her throaty off key melodies,
as she
winds her way through the wood and steps
into her odd place in the bright and peopled world.
There she will shift the balance in some small and significant way,
that only she can understand.
Having changed you
so completely into yourself
she is unafraid to reinvent the world.
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Join us won’t you and send your creative sweetness to:
m.diane.writeon@gmail.com
We need to hear you.
