The Way Ahead

Saddleback Lake from the Grey Ghost Trail - Sandy River Plantation, Maine

The Way Ahead

Our stories intersect.
We criss-cross each other
as we meet, greet, be.
Some stories entwine us
more than others,
like the story of true, deep, shared love.
The soulmate kind.
A sturdy anchor that can
keep a vessel secure
despite varied pulls.
When, for whatever reason,
the physical container of that love leaves,
there’s a scary sensation
of being adrift
and vulnerable.
It’s easy to hold on to
that which actually constricts,
promotes tension within.
Part of healing from the angst
and emptiness
of being on that drifty ship,
involves learning how and when
to let go.
There can be a sense of others
having power over you,
when in truth they don’t.
You might feel beholden,
responsible,
or simply wrong
at times when you are
stretching into your newness.
What a profound, liberating
 moment when
you realize
that you can let go,
even of that.
When you do,
the way ahead becomes
even more hopeful, open,
and true.

Sarah Carlson

August 28, 2018

Sun Shimmers and Rain Plops

Parker Pond, Maine

You'll have to look closely at the picture above. These moments didn't last long.

Sun Shimmers and Rain Plops

Blue-gray sky speckled with fair weather clouds.
Just enough wind to make evergreens waltz,
waves lap against my granite perch,
sunlight glitter upon their varied faces.
I settle in to read for a bit,
about indigenous wisdom and
the illusion of separation.
In need of some time
to ponder the message
I set my book aside and,
from seemingly nowhere,
a gentle, spotty rain begins to fall.
For just a few moments
sun shimmers and rain plops
dance on the water’s surface,
 together as one.
Circles within circles
bobbing, expanding, flowing
on the twinkling, reflective sheen.
Grateful and content,
I smile at nature’s
timely illustration.

Sarah Carlson

August 26, 2018

Ancestral Angst

Popham Beach State Park, Maine

This one is connected to an earlier poem called Ancestral Darkness - page 133 of The Radiance of Change and in the blog archive from October of 2015.

Ancestral Angst

Some of the energy from ancestral angst
somehow settled within.
Part of my lineage
with a distinct rigidity
that I’ve lugged
for a long while.
As I heal the strands often loosen,
discharging tension.
It’s as if there’s a conduit 
to sorrows of the past
to which I am linked,
but with current that is lessening.
Because these bonds are so old
there can be a bit of a skirmish
as they let go,
I let go.
Sometimes I think I should apologize,
which in moments of release
makes no sense at all.
Perhaps I am sorry because I care,
but now know that the issues
of my forebears were theirs,
not mine.
Maybe I’m just sorry because 

distress was such a large
piece of the puzzle
as I remember it,
took it in.
I’m not sorry that I recognized
my need for liberation.
As more and more unloads,
washes away,
I access greater appreciation for
the goodness of the grains
that also form my foundation,
and theirs.
I’m sure they didn’t mean to
cause family fracture.
I’ll never fully understand
all that was broken,
but I do know that
none of it was my fault.
 Though I still meander back,
I am acutely aware that
whatever happened is over.
I can flow forward with relief
at being
less and less connected
to ancestral angst.

Sarah Carlson

August 18, 2018

Two Briny Beings

Popham Beach State Park, Maine

This poem connects to and earlier piece titled Cross-Currents. It can be found on page 155 of The Radiance of Change and in the blog archive of September, 2016.

Two Briny Beings

Standing strong
in soft sand,
my tender feet
sink just a bit.
Ocean waves come from
 multiple directions,
wash around my legs.
I am mesmerized by the moment,
though right then I don’t quite know why.
I just knew I needed to be
right there, right then.
I can still feel the sensations of
sand caressing my feet,
water enveloping my skin.
Two briny beings
in a tidal dance
 of wholeness.
I didn’t have to understand fully
the reasons for my desire to
be in that spot,
just knew to follow the guidance
from whence it came.
No tension, no worry,
no remorse.
That sublime sensation
of letting go,
letting flow
in action once again
around me,
for me,
 within me.

Sarah Carlson

August 15, 2018

Cloud Bath

Saddleback Mountain in Rangeley, Maine

Lately I've had poems from the past come to mind as I write new ones. The following poem is closely linked to one titled One Foot in Front of the Other from 2006. It is on page 12 of The Radiance of Change and is also in the blog archive from November of 2010.

Cloud Bath

To the top of a favorite mountain
at the invitation of new friends.
Yet again,
I put one foot in front of the other
and make my way.
More sure footed this time,
with far less tension in my body,
very little ache in my heart.
To the summit we stretch,
and beyond.
On a rocky prominence we perch,
in awe of the lovely view.
In the distance
other mountains visited,
lakes enjoyed,
roads biked.
This busy body content
to simply sit, breathe, be.
Varied clouds
flow with summery breezes,
natural cinema playing
before our eyes.
Some vapors settle
 in the basin behind,
begin to sweep up the back slope.
Hugging the col,
they roll over the ridge,
descend the front slope
before they lift,
rise up as if in jubilation
at their freedom.
We humans immerse
in a cloud bath
with a smooth, gentle power.
Honored to be right there
in those moments,
I welcome the chance
for quiet cleansing and
soothing rejuvenation.

Sarah Carlson

August 15, 2018

There Again

There Again

We went there again.
To the old gray camp that is so close, 

yet so far, from home.
I know you were unsure about going.

I don’t blame you.
But you trusted,
allowed in the safety of now.
I felt your tenseness as we entered the kitchen

through the creaky screen door.
But you started to relax
 as we reached the living room,

sensing the difference
in the atmosphere of the place.
You checked every nook and cranny

with your eyes and your heart,
especially the open porch
with lake breezes wafting around and through.
You so badly wanted the changes
to be real, to be true.
As you turned and walked toward the pantry
 you stopped in your tracks,
taking it in anew.
It was altered
in both appearance and energy,

all traces of alcohol gone,

along with associated tension and angst.

Really, truly no longer there.
I felt your tender essence

infuse with hope, faith, delight –
your face aglow, your eyes a-twinkle,
your body at ease.
Yes, we went there again.
To that place of sadness,
misunderstanding,
and generational suffering.
It took some doing,
but we were solid and sure,
happy in our health,
able to fully accept the veracity of what is,
allow the ferocity of musty memories to wane.
Those dark days are done,
no longer need to produce pain.
Later, sitting by the lake,
watching the clouds drift above
and the loons swim by,
residual wariness and worry slid away,
 replaced with love
and gratitude for having gone
there again.

Sarah Carlson

August 8, 2018

Truth

Parker Ridge Trail, Tumbledown Mountain - photo by Katharina Burdet

Truth

Hear me, little one.
Trust me when I say you are safe,
we are safe.
We’ve worked hard
to uncover and explore,
wonder and weep,
receive and recover.
We, together, are me
and it’s time to fully align to the truth.
The continual sense of goodness
that has kept me company,
even in the hardest of times,
is real.
The core of strength
that has fortified my being
all along the way
is sure.
The ability to write,
illuminating healing and hope,
is beautiful and right to share.
The curative experiences
of body, mind, and spirit
can and should
 be welcomed and absorbed.
On solid ground,
beneath a benign sky,
serenaded by flowing waters
I stand full, robust, and ready.
I can take deep restorative breaths,
open wide to the beauty
both before me and within me.
Though there may be occasional stirs
as I assimilate and adjust,
the truth is
I am safe
to freely, fully,
firmly
be me.

Sarah Carlson

August 6, 2018