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Kathy and I drove to British Columbia today. It is about an eight-hour drive so lots of time for quiet and conversation. Driving through mountains there is a lot to behold in the pure silence married to nature’s stillness.

At one point, Kathy commented how at this time of year the mountains in the distant seem closer with snow coming down further. During the summer, the mountains are snow-free and do not stand out the same way. Today, it looked like there had been snow in the past couple of days contrasting the darkness.

Linda Gregg’s poem captures how human silence provides humans with opportunities to witness nature’s pure stillness. In moments of pure silence, we feel ourselves embedded in something larger containing us and everything else. There is a sense of smallness and, yet, a sense of largeness in this exquisite elegance. In these moments, we feel a deep sense of caring from the world and towards the world.

All that is uncared for.

Left alone in the stillness

in that pure silence married

to the stillness of nature.

A door off its hinges,

shade and shadows in an empty room.

Leaks for light. Raw where

the tin roof rusted through.

The rustle of weeds in their

different kinds of air in the mornings,

year after year.

A pecan tree, and the house

made out of mud bricks. Accurate

and unexpected beauty, rattling

and singing. If not to the sun,

then to nothing and to no one.

About ivonprefontaine

I completed a PhD at Gonzaga University in Spokane, WA. Previously, I taught for 20 years and taught for 15 years in a wonderful hybrid school. My dissertation topic and research were how certain teachers experience becoming who teachers. In teaching and leanring, I am a boundary-crosser who understands moving ahead is a leap of faith. Teaching is a calling and vocation to express who I am as a person. Currently, I am waiting and listening to what calls me next. I am an educator, phenomenologist, scholar, boundary-crosser, published poet, author, parent, grandparent, and spouse.

11 responses »

  1. Welcome to beautiful British Columbia! I hope you catch the sunshine before the rains start-

  2. Ivon, it is nature that brings to me this simultaneous sense of “smallness” and “largeness”, as you express so well in this post. Thanks for sharing the poem by Linda Gregg. It’s lovely.

  3. Jackie Saulmon Ramirez

    Hm, I never thought about the difference in the appearance closeness or distance in different seasons. You are right about silence. Something I’ve always found to be curious is a battery-powered clock that I made many years ago. Late at night when nothing is moving, no people are stirring and there are no televisions or electronics humming, I can hear the ticking of that clock so loudly that it catches my attention. During the day, standing in front of the clock, try as I might, I cannot hear any ticking.

    That was a lovely poem. Thank you for that interesting preface.

  4. Ahhhh, going home (our home too). Love the poem Ivon.

  5. Reblogged this on The Mirror Obscura and commented:
    Ms. Gregg wrote a wonderful poem. Thank you for sharing. >KB


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