This poem was written in response to a Poetic Medicine Circle training by John Fox.

Prompt: “Poetry / speaks and listens:” —lines from “Between What I See and What I Say” by Octavio Paz.

Dismissive literal voices, devoid of inclusion and heart,

draw me into the shade away from poetry.

Yet even in the shadows my imagination lingers,

longing to express life’s lyrical flow.

Poetry swings her legs as she sits on a red brick wall

gazing at glistening stars gliding across a charcoal sky.

My poems respond, painting papyrus with indigo dye,

orange spice, and scents of cinnamon.

Constellations of light and color emerge.

Poetry invites me to ink shame onto paper where it belongs,

the muddled colors curling away from a feeding source,

Mercifully freed

Poetry takes her broad horsehair brush,

dips it in yellow and pulls the pigment

across my face to take her stand

as one of my original voices.

Poetry lets a silent

ground lie fallow,

leaves a bird’s nest

untouched.

My heart recognizes

herself in the

spaces left

between.