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crossings
Crossings
A ritual in six steps
I. The Letter
I knelt beside the younger me—
mud-kneed, wonder-eyed—
and said,
You did not fail by surviving.
With ink soft as forgiveness,
I wrote:
“I carried you here.
And still, I do.”
II. The Dialogue
I found my fragments arguing—
mask and marrow, fire and husk—
so I let them speak.
One said: I yielded,
the other: I stayed,
and together,
they wrote a name I recognized.
III. The Sigil
By candlelight, I curved a shape—
part wing, part wound, part word.
Not to cast a spell,
but to remember:
I am allowed
to believe
in what remade me.
IV. The Blessing
At the mirror’s edge, I whispered
to the name they gave me,
and the one I chose:
May you outgrow shame without shedding gentleness.
May you speak without shrinking.
May you love without folding first.
V. The Boundary Walk
I stepped to the line—
threshold, doorway, shore—
and paused,
barefoot, present.
The air on both sides
tasted of salt and maybe.
Halfway through,
I said aloud:
Here I am.
And the wind replied,
Welcome.
VI. The Altar
I gathered the evidence—
a scar,
a poem never shared,
a feather kept for no reason.
I built no temple.
But I bowed my head
as if I had.
And left the matchbox open,
just in case.
.
As I witnessed, spellbound,
As I witnessed, spellbound, this literary miracle that moved like wind-blown feathers and somehow, simultaneously, leaped in theatrical flight, I could only think: Yes! Exactly!
Exactly.
Each verse encapsulates, with meticulous power, the passages of life that are unique yet collectively shared, and in language so out-of-the box eye-opening that you seemed to have reinvented eloquence.
“The Sigil” was indeed magick (Yes, with a “k”) and again: Exactly! It registered so deeply I wanted to cheer.
“part wing, part wound, part word” Wow!
And then the self-realization, the awakening, the acceptance of your evolution and authenticity in words so pure and euphoric. Now that’s art.
“The Blessing” Exactly. Here there’s a poem within a poem, a proverb, that rests at the feet of enlightenment and perfect balance. Embracing our True Self, we are free to love.
And just as I finished unwrapping those devastatingly beautiful gifts, I read, in the fifth part, what every naturalist should aspire to create: simplicity, a gentle dialogue with the Earth, becoming, for a moment, the voice of creation.
Ok, I know this is getting long, but since my time is limited, be assured that I wouldn’t be tunneling so deep into a poem that didn’t expand and challenge and completely capture me.
The image you chose to close the poem with was impeccable and spoke volumes about what a successful life truly is. The resplendent simplicity, the triumph of contentment, the open-ended happiness, was a crescendo and a hymn.
It doesn’t get better than this.
More than valuable, your
More than valuable, your words settle like dew on the altar—each sentence a benediction in itself. To be read so deeply, and with such reverent ferocity, is to be seen in a way few poems dare hope for. "Crossings" was an attempt to name the many departures we survive, the rituals we build to return to ourselves, and the joy that refuses to wait for permission. That you walked it not just as a reader, but as a co-witness, means more than ink could say. Thank you for meeting the poem where it lives—in breath, in silence, and in becoming.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver
I love---let me say
I love---let me say again, LOVE---this magnificent poem, especially part V. And I love how my words fail as I read yours, as they did decades ago when I began to discover Poets like Vergil and Wallace Stevens. The joy of discovery dwindles in old age, but your Poetry brings it right back. I really like the format of this poem.
*
Bookmarking this one for several anticipated re-reads; same way I love to hear Dvorak's 9th repeatedly.
Starward-Led [in Chrismation, Januarius]
That is so good to hear
That is so good to hear Starward-Led. I am glad to have been able to bring some form the joy of discovery.
here is poetry that doesn't always conform
galateus, arkayye, arqios,arquious, crypticbard, excalibard, wordweaver