Thursday, March 19, 2009


The Journey

Above the mountains
the geese turn into
the light again

Painting their
black silhouettes
on an open sky.

Sometimes everything
has to be
inscribed across
the heavens

so you can find
the one line
already written
inside you.

Sometimes it takes
a great sky
to find that

small, bright
and indescribable
wedge of freedom
in your own heart.

Sometimes with
the bones of the black
sticks left when the fire
has gone out

someone has written
something new
in the ashes of your life.

You are not leaving
you are arriving.

(David Whyte)

("Boy Riding Home Before Dawn" drawn by old girl of the north country early in the morning in January of 2008, using a computer track pad)


robin andrea said...

That is such a beautiful poem. I especially like the sense of the bones of the black sticks and the writing in the ash. It really strikes something in me. Great drawing too, am.

R.L. Bourges said...

yes to what robin andrea said. The drawing works really well with the poem.

Dale said...

I love your black and white... um... whatever-call-thems, can you call them drawings?