There are thoughts that evoke meaning and come in riddled form. I suppose the word is poetry? These thoughts came to me after working with 6 other tellers. We shared and supported each other in our storytelling, and the next day, their tales melted into verse, a taste of our tales, sampled and shared here as a poem I call, ‘Where stories Meet”.
Where Stories Meet:
Mushrooms grow from excrement
Popping from volcanic rock
From the goop of the cow pasture.
Magic spores carry life from darkness to light,
Like owl and crow, whether silently soaring, or screaming loudly
Their song cannot be silenced.
So too stories come.
Watching from yesterday’s trees
Landing on rocky lives, seeding souls.
In darkness and light,
They sing from all quarters
From human voice, from song and poem.
From the closested pipes of music hall theater
From the gentle strings of folk guitars
Story soothes the fearful frog.
Smiling. A ridiculous clown
Linking emotion to timelessness
To people and place.
From the world past.
To the world present
and hopeful future?
The power of story slaps the heart.
A ‘whap‘ of a palm frond.
A forgetful father.
For just a moment awakened, and aware
Story removes the plastic cover of our Cadillac existence.
Driving us to a new place and delivering us renewed.