Friday, April 13, 2018


What is this landscape  
I find myself in
where furrows line my face
with worry I no longer feel?  Where
pockets of grief shadow my eyes
empty vessels of sadness
that no longer cry.  

This terrain, my landscape of
granite slabs and roughhewn quartz of
memories when glaciers trolled
and fires

burned. Oh how I burned.

Those halcyon days when
fervid movement
was the only option, a
frenetic whirlwind of freedom— a
life spiraling to be
who I thought I was

but was not

a life spiraling to be
who I became
not in the heavens
where dreams led the way
but to the depth of earth, oh
mother earth, how great my fear
where pressure and heat met
me on terms I
imagined my own

but were not  

a relentless wearing down
of wants and desires and questions
with no answers and
knowledge. Oh
how I wanted

to know.

And now, in the quiet
that envelopes my soul
the answers I no longer want
come forth. They tumble over my creases and
sharp corners looking for a place to land.

I offer none.
I offer none.

I offer nothing.
I offer everything.
I offer stillness.

If you like this blog, please "like" my FaceBook page and get notices on your timeline when a new article is posted. 


  1. Wonderful! I love the poetic voice in this poem which seems to relate both to the picture and to the meditations of human questioning. Keep it up!

    1. Thank you, Dust. The rocks have lived through so much... they understand humans much more that we understand ourselves.

  2. Beautiful expression of life's journey and healing. I love the metaphor drawn from the rock. The way the Earth speaks to you is magic Jo-Ann.

    1. You hit the right word there, Amy... magic. The stone, the tree, the microcosm of clay buried deep in the earth... magic. thank you for hearing that.