“the window has closed on me/and my pride has grown too old.” I was surprised at the shift in tone after these sad lines, to a hopeful note. Also like the idea of a “rock learning to swim” and was surprised (again!) at its finding “fellowship/at the bottom of the pool.”
"a rock learning to swim" reminded me of a conversation I recently had with my wife. She was teasing me that I was a rock, and I replied jokingly, "Yes, but a rock that knows how to swim."
If I were to name the poem’s deepest action, I’d say it transforms self-conflict into shared being by way of humility. The early stanzas are all pressure, guilt, pride, and solitary burden; the late stanzas discover that healing may not mean transcendence so much as release into relation—leaf with leaves, rock with rocks, self with others. I think it’s one of your stronger recent FOSHes. It has real inward stakes, and it converts them into images that are both strange and lucid. “Like a rock learning to swim” is going to stay with me.
Howdy Jonathan, I resonate with the, second chance, I finally learned compassion for myself. I made a few major mistakes, not to ever be made again. Live and learn hurts. Hope all is good in your neighborhood, Geraldine
Beautiful poem, I especially love the last two stanzas 🙏🏽✨
Thank you, Maya.
“the window has closed on me/and my pride has grown too old.” I was surprised at the shift in tone after these sad lines, to a hopeful note. Also like the idea of a “rock learning to swim” and was surprised (again!) at its finding “fellowship/at the bottom of the pool.”
Thank you for the generous comments, Peter. I, too, felt those surprises, so I'm grateful for confirmation.
"a rock learning to swim" reminded me of a conversation I recently had with my wife. She was teasing me that I was a rock, and I replied jokingly, "Yes, but a rock that knows how to swim."
It seems we've got a cosmic collective unconscious connection going on, amico.
If I were to name the poem’s deepest action, I’d say it transforms self-conflict into shared being by way of humility. The early stanzas are all pressure, guilt, pride, and solitary burden; the late stanzas discover that healing may not mean transcendence so much as release into relation—leaf with leaves, rock with rocks, self with others. I think it’s one of your stronger recent FOSHes. It has real inward stakes, and it converts them into images that are both strange and lucid. “Like a rock learning to swim” is going to stay with me.
Thank you, Rufus, for your perceptive commentary. I appreciate it.
Adore. 💙
Thank you, Deborah 🙏
A beautiful work, it just flows. Smooth 🫶😍
Thank you, Ethereal. 🙏
There’s such a quiet movement from weight to release in it. <3
Thank you, Petra, I've been appreciating your keen comments of late.
My pleasure <3
Gravity rules!
So true!
Renewal steals in softly sometimes. Beautiful, Jonathan.
Thank you, Keith
Howdy Jonathan, I resonate with the, second chance, I finally learned compassion for myself. I made a few major mistakes, not to ever be made again. Live and learn hurts. Hope all is good in your neighborhood, Geraldine
Ah! Thanks so much for your kind comments, Geraldine. Yes indeed, I think we've all been there.