Limes
All my life this river
I lived along, was a border
I could not cross,
I would not cross
for dear life,
and yet,
longingly I looked across
to the other lands.
I feared them to be
of darkness, angry ravines
tearing at my feet,
but of late I began
to hear whisperings,
words of weird sense
drifting into my days.
This morning, finally,
I swam across and sat on its shore
for a long time, listening.
Though I did not see light,
the lands were warm, friendly,
asking me to venture in and visit
and I felt you,
dragons unseen,
beyond human measure,
beyond human knowledge,
whispering wyrd,
and welcomed your call.
I riddled a way into
your strange tongues,
suddenly unplugging the dams
I built against the floods I feared.
From your hearths (hoards?)
heat flowed into me,
breaking the border, passing
into spaces opening.
In a new life I swam back
across the river.
I will not forget.
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Comments
Just to be sure: the title refers to the latin word for Border (Limes), not the fruit. I deliberately chose this word to mark out how strange the other side seemed before crossing the river in meditation. (And yes, my brother lives in a town in the West of the Netherlands that once lay on the borders of the Roman Empire (close by they found a Roman fortress and a village)).
Really cool, I'm ready to venture! nice write! John............................Jim
Thank you. Sorry for the belayed answer - it's been hectic at the office. Storm is over now, just the ususal madness now🤣 It is quite a new adventure, the new technique I am learning from my wife (see Eline Eugenie on Tumo on YouTube...). The river on the photo was shot by her, when we were last there on a holiday - it is almost the border between Belgium and France at about 280 miles south from our home.
Love this story of adventure. Pinned John! Sorry for almost missing an astonishing write. Kudos peace and smiles. TFOTS
Thank you again, I love it when an experience can be turned into poetry. Life is one big adventure sometimes.
It's spiritual and powerful. Wyrd is a concept in Anglo-Saxon culture roughly corresponding to fate or personal destiny.
Is your "whispering wyrd" with the same concept? Just wonder.
Hi, Yiyan, thank you for catching on and finding out about wyrd. When you have a gut feeling something is the right thing to do, your wyrd is whispering to you and you are hearing the whispers, that is what I think and mean🤔😁
Hi, Cherie, thank you so much - this is one of the best responses to a poem I ever had (and I've been writing for about 42 years now😁). The river, by the way, is the Semois in the South of Belgium, almost the border between Belgium and France. The photo is taken by my wife (with just her simple, old mobile phone - I only use pictures she has taken herself or in rare cases I did). We've camped there quite a lot. The poem is in fact a description of a process I engaged upon recently (Shakti energy) which seems to be working out well (so far😁)