There are all kinds of birthdays. Today I was thinking about how a book is born. But this poem didn’t want to be about all the edits, the changes, the stumbles. It wanted to be about getting the initial idea. So I let it be about what it wanted to be about. And the thing was, as I was letting go, letting the poem be what is was insisiting on being, the metaphor grew and it felt as if my body was filling with light.
BIRTH OF AN IDEA
By April Halprin Wayland
I am cold.
It is night.
I see your cabin
down the trail far away.
I see your window.
I see the closed blinds.
I wait.
Light slips through the grey clouds.
It spills across your blinds.
They move.
Your eye peeks through a small opening,
blinks, disappears.
You raise the blinds.
You sit on the bed, put on shoes.
You stand. Squint.
I think you look directly at me.
You leave the window.
I shiver.
You’ve come back.
You push open the window, step through.
You begin to walk towards me,
up this trail.
But then you stop,
crouch down, look at something.
A chill breeze blows.
Look up. Look at me.
You do.
You stand and walk.
A red bird lands directly in your path.
It is beautiful.
It is too beautiful.
But you walk around it.
I grow warm.
I can’t help it.
The clouds have gone.
You stop.
You look down the trail towards your cabin.
You look up the trail at me.
You wipe your brow.
You walk faster.
Now you are here.
You sit beside me.
You pick me up.
I try not to burn your palm.
You hold me.
I glow.
I think you are glowing,
too.
© 2010 April Halprin Wayland. All rights reserved
Please leave a comment on www.TeachingAuthors.com (You can leave your comment after any of our posts…it doesn’t matter if I’m posting or one of the five other authors is. Just scroll down to the first place you can comment. I’d love to hear your thoughts~)