Where is it that you’re going my stellar pelted moose?
Where is it that your lunar hooves go when they need to roost?
Can I ride you like a wild mare through the skies?
To where lightning strikes are born and start a crackly dive?
And give them chase at light speed as they zip and zag?
To where their sparks will die, down, into and past the crags?
We’ll wait two starry sparkles to let our shadows catch back up
Before galloping over landscape of colorless collapse
Graze on these blades of bleak gray gris, I’ll go and find the colors
Once, twice, thrice
Each time I’m getting better
At diving to the murky depths of grief and its 5 fetters
Descend, descend, slowly now
Mind not my heart in race
A type of treasure hunt’s afoot
Great monsters lie in wait
I’m looking for scraps in me that glimmer
Despite all the debris
Of who I am, of who I’ve been, of what I chose to see
Is what still shines worth re-collecting
Worth the long trip down?
No, not all of me is coming back
Large parts must sink and drown
I pray, new eyes, new sight, to glimpse
The jaggedest of pieces
Jettest of the jet
Should I try to scrub them clean
To expose a brilliant sheen
Jetter, jetter, jetter still
Wielding them creates new skills unseen
From the murky rubble depths
Bubble, bubble, bubble
All the darks and all the lights
One by one they come
Ascend, ascend, ascend
Another feat half done
Paint the mountains and the soil
Rivers, critters, plants, sun, moon
Vibrant colors for it all could not have come too soon
Let my voice ring anew, as long ago it rang
Before the Great Crumbling Destructioning began
Where is it that you’ll take me now my stellar pelted moose?
Will your lunar hooves get their chance
on firmament to roost?
Yes, they will, I know it, I’ve colored in the place
With time that’s left, however, there’re lightning strikes to chase
Inspiration Revealed #
My muses inspire me when I write.
Your muses inspire you when you read.
Below I choose to disclose the inspirations and interpretations of my own poems.
Maybe our muses told us some of the same things. Read on below if you really want to find out.
Inspiration #
A Daymare #
On one of the last weekends of July 2023 I went to New Hampshire to take a rock climbing self rescue class. I had just climbed up maybe 20 feet off the ground, I’m guessing, and as I hung there I had a death daydream while waiting for my partner to come rescue me. I’m sure this happens to everyone that undertakes a death defying sport. At some point your imagination gets the better of you and you imagine ropes ripping, harnesses snapping, your belay partner’s attention being elsewhere, or a carabiner gate coming open…the rope slipping through the crack.
My daymare grew in my mind until it made me internally panic. I looked up and down and all around. The rope creaked from where I imagined it was thinning.
Then I remembered. I had chosen to be here. All the choices in my life and I had picked the ones that led me here, onto a wall 20 feet above the ground into a position that was inherently dangerous even though all the equipment had been checked and everything was safe.
After a few moments of anxiety I quelled the daymare. My partner came up, rescued me and the birds kept on chirping. Nothing happened.
The class was great and we had defied death while having fun.
Lightning Strike #
Our class instructor told us a story about getting struck by lightning; it’s something I’ve daydreamed about and have always thought interesting. He survived without any bad side-effects and looked happy to tell the story. I was happy to have heard it.
Overcoming Grief #
Not long after the class was over the skies opened up and poured rain over the world with an intensity that I enjoy. I was in town and I entered a small store where a few chance coincidences led me to a conversation with an incredibly nice person and buying a card with the stellar moose of the poem. The card was not fully painted and it reminded me of a video game I played a long time ago to deal with a terrible grief that I had ignored and had trouble processing on my own. In the video game the character Gris is in an unpainted landscape and she must explore her own psyche to restore all color to her world by going through the 5 stages of grief.
Grief is never easy but each time I seem to reconstruct myself with whatever is left over. It’s never just the best parts that I use. Whether I’m better or worse for it…remains to be seen.
Lightning Strike Chase - My 6th Stage of Grief #
I’ve never literally chased lightning to be struck by it; it doesn’t seem prudent, but I can’t deny it sounds fun. Now I’ve invented my own 6th stage of grief. Acceptance is a great stage and it’s wonderful to get to, but I know I’m truly past the grief when I’m ready to be struck by lightning again, when I’m ready for the next adventure.