CK commented the other day I was prolific, maybe I've already mentioned this. I wasn't sure at first if this was OK, if my wordy-ness was a bother. There's a bit of a laugh in it since so often I feel like I am at a loss for words. I have tried to make writing be part of my practice in order to help me sort out words from the cacophony of competing voices or find the way out in moments of fear.
Next month some members of my Sangha have proposed a challenge -- 30 poems in 30 days. Seems like both another outlet for writing practice as well as a way to reconnect with writing poetry. In the past few years the occasional haiku has been about it. Since it was the first type of poetry I learned about it feels like I've gone back to my roots somehow.
I don't have any of those first haiku poems I wrote. I wonder now what they were like -- full of all the earnestness, curiosity and silliness of my nine year-old self. 31 years later and I'm still fascinated by the rhythm of haiku, the way the handful of words shift around until they settle down.
On that note, one came to me last night when CK asked if I'd posted something to test a blog she's started for the Sangha Poem Challenge. I didn't have anything new to post there and couldn't think of anything at that moment, I didn't have any words handy.
And then words arrived.
Sometimes the words come
Slowly - like finding agates
Scattered on the shore.
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