Tag Archives: closeness

Transcendence

The touch is made first in the womb
and born in the gore thereafter.
Then comes the feedings, the colic, the changes,
the clothes, the tournaments, and the boyfriends—
the days of your dreams wrapped up each year
and sealed to the heart with a kiss.

But then it’s that day after surgery and you are
in the shower with your frail, 85-year old mother
and she’s bathing her baby girl again.
And then, later, when it’s her in the bed,
and as the bed settles into the ground—
that is when you realize this is the closest you can get;
I am because we are.

Ubuntu, sometimes translated as I am what I am because of who we all are, or, as it is here, the more succinct I am because we are, is an ancient African word from the Nguni Bantu language meaning humanity to others or the simpler humanity. Computer nerds (like yours truly) will know it as the name of an open-source version of the Linux operating system.

There are many ties in families: blood, obligation, and love. All are important, but only pure love—love without reward or obligation—love for love’s sake—is transcendent above physicality.

Thank you for reading Transcendence. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

The photograph was taken in the Metropolitan Museum in New York City. To see my photography blog, please visit the Book of Bokeh.

john

Photograph, poem, and notes © John Etheridge; all rights reserved. The poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Work 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original written work found on this site unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed is © John Etheridge,  https://bookofpain.wordpress.com. The image is not licensed for use in any way without the expressed consent of its creator.

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Floating

Cathedral Rock, Sedona, AZ

 

A giddy drunken laugh
of pure melodic thought,
the musk of a scent aloft in the dusk,
an impression, a vagary,
an echo of an image, a reverie,
the memory of a sweet soft sigh.
We are this silence,
this dreaming, this evening
we are this silence,
just now.

This poem is dedicated to my wonderful wife, Lyn, and to the incredible time we had in Sedona, Arizona for the last week. For my foreign readers, who may not know about this fabulous treasure, Sedona is an artist’s community/vacation area in the heart of the American Southwest dessert. It is a few hours drive south of the Grand Canyon and a few hours drive north of Phoenix, Arizona.

While we were in Sedona, we ate well, slept well, did some running, some hiking and some mountain biking, and all-in-all relaxed and had a wonderful, calm and romantic week. If only it need never have ended…

Thank you for reading Floating. I sincerely hope you have enjoyed it and I humbly appreciate your visiting the Book of Pain. As always, I look forward to your comments.

john

© 2013 by John Etheridge; all rights reserved. This poem and accompanying notes are licensed under the Creative Commons Attribution-Noncommercial-No Derivative Works 3.0 Unported License. This applies to all original work found on this site, unless noted otherwise. The attribution claimed under the license is: © 2013 by John Etheridge, https://bookofpain.wordpress.com.

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Filed under Poetry