Off the Beaten Path.
Secreted treasures everywhere.
"I AM", at seventy-nine years of age, different than I was at twenty-five years ago when I wrote this "I AM" poem to Dagma when we began our six-year-long courtship with a thousand miles between our homes in Carmel, California and Spokane, Washington. And yet, I am the same in many ways—but expanded through observation, experience, and endurance. I'm still a student of being present in the moment and possibility.
At the time I met Dagma, I had no idea of who and how I would become, what miracles would occur for me...to open me more as ONE with the universe. When I wrote this poem to her, I wanted to share my truth—what I thought to be the spiritual source, illumination, and destination of me. I saw in our kindled partnership the grand opportunity for fulfilling my life's purpose and continued transformation in harmony with wind, and leaf and honeybee.
The closer I get to moving from human being to being everything, I find my connection with nature and light inseparable.
I AM:
"I am the wind
that carries the scent of somewhere else,
...that lifts a prayer.
I am the sound of children in play,
sea spray,
feather...stone.
I am the chase...the catch,
the fallen tree to sit upon for rest.
I am desire for springtime.
I am the warm pond
from which the squiggle of new life forms.
I am anticipation on waters' edge.
I am the fallen leaf,
the dream,
the laugh in a surprise,
a song of inspiration,
...the glory of God.
I am the furnace, anvil,
sting of hammer on steel.
I am this moment,
the next step,
the weapon of love,
the sparkle in your eye,
sweat from pushing,
allowing in the open hand.
I am the courage in a "yes" and "no,"
a whistle in the dark,
a flag unfurled,
son's father-father's son.
I am the pollen of wildflowers
on the legs of honeybees.
the jab of fear in jealousy,
the broken law of gravity.
I am the silence before the sound.
I am the intended blow withheld
I am the wound of mortality,
an avalanche of creativity,
a dance of contradiction,
desperate invocation.
nobility on its knees.
I am surrender.
the call of beauty,
the open space."
Copyright Gary Ibsen All rights reserved.