Leap before you Look

The steps that freeze us, The illusion of barbed wire,
The sheer agony of becoming who we are,
Like a yawn, a stretch, a chasm,
You stare into the abyss of freedom,
And it stares into you,
Side by side,
With the birds on the runway,
Waiting for something to happen,
Forever watching a looping film,
Waiting for it to come to us,
We pray for the courage to take a tiny step,
We pray for the fresh air of liberation,
We pray for support and strength and grace,
As into an open future we fall.

(I recently had the pleasure of attending a workshop with the 'corporate poet', David Whyte, who kept me spellbound for a whole day with his love of words, rythym and intonation. One of the poems he recited to us and my favourite of the day was called 'Start Close in' - you can check it out at http://www.panhala.net/Archive/Start_Close_In.html . 'Leap before you Look' has a similar message to 'Start Close In'. They are both poems about the first, terrifying step - the one you don't want to take - not the second or the third step, but the first step. They are both about finding your own path, not following 'someone else's heroics', creating your own destiny rather than 'waiting for something to happen', having the audaciousness to become that which only you are, not a pale imitation of someone else. Another 'sister' poem of 'Leap before you Look' is the poem posted earlier called 'Birds on the Runway'. The 'birds' appear again in this poem as a metaphor for the little things that get in the way of the big things. The phrase 'you stare into the abyss of freedom and it stares into you' is a shameless copy of Nietzsche's comment '...if you gaze for long into an abyss, the abyss gazes also into you' )  

High and Mighty

Fallen leaves,
Were they so proud?
In the height of Summer,
Were they so green?
In their full bloom,
Now trodden underfoot,
Mulching and mulshing away.

Tall trees,
Were they so humble?
In the height of Summer,
Were they so browned off?
Amidst their full blooming,
Now starkly defining the night sky,
Bold and brazen in their permanence.

(This is a short poem about seasons and cycles. About how quickly the trappings of success, the 'leaves', can fall away. They have had their 'fifteen minutes of fame' as the superficial foliage that comes and goes, is admired then forgotten then 'trodden underfoot'. Whereas the tree that spawns the leaf is a different representation of 'success'. Hidden for many months by the fluttering leaves, the tree's true beauty is only revealed in the Winter when it stands proud and permanent, enduring the cycles, the seasons, and being the source of growth rather than the evidence of it. It prompts thoughts of what it means to be successful, how to react when you are praised or admired and how to sustain your beliefs when all seem to be against you. It is a timely poem as the leaves start to fall at the start of Autumn and as the economy starts to recover from the worst recession for fifty years.)

Warm Tears

Falling like warm tears,
Your words bless the ground we're stood upon,
Like a warm hand grasped,
You sense the life and truth within,
And all recedes, contracts, withdraws,
Against this endearing declaration,
All egos cower and hunker down,
Like so many warm tears falling,
On the fires of this Earth,

Pick up this torch my friend,
For the next leg of the journey is yours,
And no one else has this route etched in their hearts,
Take courage from those who have gone before,
Take hope from those who will come,
On balance this was your choice,
And the many doors have closed behind,
On balance this was your calling,
And the many faces turn your way,
Like many warm tears falling,
Let your heart flood with joy,
Like many warm tears falling,
Drown out the craven world,
And as you step gingerly into your full, holy self,
Will we all bask in your radiance,
Will we all be halfway there.

(This poem was written following a coffee in Starbucks with a fellow coach. One of those conversations that creates a connection and stirs your feelings. Reminds you of a shared sense of purpose. But also reminds you never to judge the path of another. Paths that might converge and diverge in a seemingly random fashion yet reflect an individual choice, conscious or otherwise. As with many of my poems, the metaphor of water and floods and drowning is used to symbolise the rising spirit. In an interview, shortly before his death, Jung said 'What comes next? Aquarius, the Waterpourer, the falling of water from one place to another. And the little fish receiving the water from the pitcher of the Waterpourer....But there is danger in the water, on the banks'. Maybe the 'danger' that Jung was referring to was the risk of an over-reaction, an over-correction? Maybe it was something else? The poem closes with a hint that in finding our own individual fulfilment we inspire others to do the same, despite the apparent paradox of such a self-centred approach.)