I had the joy and privilege of taking a short retreat at the Vedanta Retreat in Olema last week, about an hour and a half from my home in the East Bay. Each time I visit the women's retreat house, I'm overcome by gratitude for the deep silence, broken only by the wind, the rustling of leaves, and the bellowing of cattle in the nearby pasturelands. Deer grazed just beyond my window, oblivious to my presence behind glass. The unseasonably beautiful, warm, dry weather warmed my bones. And I could feel in my bones how thirsty the land is. Grasses dried brown, trees still leafed out but definitely showing signs of dehydration. My body resonates with the body of Earth, how she is changing, how dampened is the once-rich buzz of insects and bird chatter. Yes, it's autumn, heading toward winter, and yet.... This poem surfaced yesterday.
Gravity
…the force of
attraction, the irresistible
magnetism that, in
our cosmos brings
things together. Some
call it by
the name of
love, the hidden
and mysterious pull
that draws two
bodies toward one
another, holds one
in another’s orbit,
so that together,
they may circle
some larger star.
This being so,
then it’s love
that binds us,
molds us, shapes
our dreams—love
against which we
chafe and struggle,
love to which
we submit, love
that sustains, fulfills,
and sometimes empties
us. When, at
the end of the film
Gravity, the woman
astronaut who has
been stranded alone
in space, having
made it back
into Earth’s atmosphere,
splash lands in
the ocean, drags
herself onto a
beach, hugging the
wet sand as
if it were
her dearest, only
child, we know
with her, for
a certainty, that
we all are
wedded to this
Earth, and we
are her children.
We aspire and
shine only in
her orbit, in
deep and abiding
connection with her,
she is the
mother, drawing us
to her wet
and shining breast,
and she is
our spaceship, lonely
and untethered in
the black infinity
of an eternal
night, our only
lifeline, our only
hope, our cherished
garden, our only
and so temporary
home.
© Diane Elliot 2019
Gravity
…the force of
attraction, the irresistible
magnetism that, in
our cosmos brings
things together. Some
call it by
the name of
love, the hidden
and mysterious pull
that draws two
bodies toward one
another, holds one
in another’s orbit,
so that together,
they may circle
some larger star.
This being so,
then it’s love
that binds us,
molds us, shapes
our dreams—love
against which we
chafe and struggle,
love to which
we submit, love
that sustains, fulfills,
and sometimes empties
us. When, at
the end of the film
Gravity, the woman
astronaut who has
been stranded alone
in space, having
made it back
into Earth’s atmosphere,
splash lands in
the ocean, drags
herself onto a
beach, hugging the
wet sand as
if it were
her dearest, only
child, we know
with her, for
a certainty, that
we all are
wedded to this
Earth, and we
are her children.
We aspire and
shine only in
her orbit, in
deep and abiding
connection with her,
she is the
mother, drawing us
to her wet
and shining breast,
and she is
our spaceship, lonely
and untethered in
the black infinity
of an eternal
night, our only
lifeline, our only
hope, our cherished
garden, our only
and so temporary
home.
© Diane Elliot 2019
RSS Feed