Messages From Carrie
Tipping
August 30th, 2010
Although I was moving thru the open space
I was stuck motionless, lost in thought
Sitting still in the darkened room of my mind,
Seeing only an endless loop of repeated images
Hearing only the noisy racket of an unfinished dialog
This is the landscape where it all shifts
Tipping the scales from hope to despair
A dodgy and seductive confined space
beckoning us to where we might live
as if we were the tragic stars
In the movie of our lives.
At that moment of precarious balance
Three yellow poplar leaves
Drifted down
Rocking
Back and forth
In front of me.
They caught the sunlight
Sparked and flashed
With a flick and flutter, like a butane lighter
Lit in cold cupped hands.
Suddenly I was moving through the autumn air
Flooded with light and presence
Feeling the smooth handle grips
And catching the scent of new mown hay
I nearly wept with joy
And whispered in utterly relieved gratitude
“I am here”
and something shifted back toward the light.
What must it take
Until we finally pull a metal tape measure across that airless room
And assess its parameters too small for anything as large as life?
Until we notice
That the world is always shining just outside the walls of our darkened minds
Sparkling in the sunlight and fluttering down like autumn leaves.
Carrie Newcomer 2010