holding on to giddiness

[Suz-zen]

A thorny question
As I gaze into your laughing eyes
And toothless smile

Plump cheeks
Your arms- rolls of flesh

One perfect wave atop a Gerber head
up and over
gentle like the Pacific
a place of calm
pacified


To remember the nature of impermanence
is to ignore the true self

Can we hold on to giddiness
pure joy within

A hand
larger than our own
may shake our world
our snow globe in winter
slamming it
onto concrete
glass shards
among floods
broken messes

Light streams
tranquility
clarity
release
with laughter

Flawlessly
one perfect wave
riding giddiness
up and over

from within

-stays

[grant hayes]

For me, the transport of delight was interrupted by the didactic philosophising in stanzas 4 (particularly) and 5. I liked it when the telling stopped and the showing resumed - that world-shaking hand said it all. I read it back to myself without 4 and 5 and it had lost nothing essential.

[Suz-zen]

thanks, Grant. I agree. I felt a 'telling' a few more times and had thought about waiting to post but pulled the trigger (before happy hour and carnitas tacos!). This was a combination of two inspirations that on further consideration ought to have been kept separate...a photograph from the 50's was one inspiration as well as the video released by the NY Times of the bombing in Manchester that mixed in my mind. I think this is where it went awry. Appreciate the thoughtful comment.

[grant hayes]

Suz-zen, the content of stanzas 4 and 5 is well put, and worthy of reflection. I guess my comment might seem not to value the point you make there. My remarks pertain to the overall poetic effect, not the integrity of the axiom per se.

[Tanner]

Hi Suz-zen, I fully understand what Grant says. I, however, was stopped dead in my tracks by this philosophical statement which is still rolling around in my consciousness:

To remember the nature of impermanence
is to ignore the true self

Thank you.

[Suz-zen]

Tanner Thank you... That was the message I wanted to come across most. I have a photo of myself as a 3-month-old- as I look at the face I see what I know to be my true nature - through all the 'explosions' I am still who I am when I look at a photo of me today or in the mirror in my own eyes- beyond the wrinkles , grief, dreams that seemed important or impossible... Sort of the wisdom of Popeye? I yam what I yam and that's all that I am.
Now superimpose-
Seeing photos of victims of Manchester and photo of the terrorist I had questions about all of these things swirling around in my mind/ heart/ soul - trying to make sense or meaning.

Maybe this explanation makes my poem more or less relatable. I don't know. And I thank you for reading and commenting. I value your input.