everything feeds process

Ghazal on Falling and Flight

Balled fists shoved in pockets, his shuffling feet choose flight.
Stretching his stride against concrete, shadows extend, choose flight.

When did we become so earthbound, so moored in place?
We awake from our dreams, slow and stuck. How did we lose flight?

This time of year, we are showered in gold and red
as brittle leaves break free from branches, drift loose and choose flight.

This morning, I watch the crows, those bundles of blue
black feathers. As they balance on bare trees, do they choose flight

In our calculated flight paths, we traverse air,
treat thousands of miles like mere steps. Flying, we abuse flight.

Look at how we shelter our children: buckle
them in car seats, cage them in cribs. See how they strain, bruise flight.

A few weeks ago, still in summer, I watched
pigeons swoop low over a garden. Their wings’ beat: use flight.

We both take our turns. We inch towards freedom then
turn back, to meet safety. Our compromises ask: Whose flight?

Woman, you are running out of time. You have filled
all of your wasted days and weeks. When will you jump and choose flight?

***

I don’t really write ghazals annually. I would say that I write them rarely. I really enjoy the form, because it is a challenge. Beyond the obvious difficulty of creating good rhymes and repeating refrains creatively, it’s very difficult for me to write a poem that doesn’t follow a single subject. Since this is so hard, I only work on ghazals when I really feel like it.

I felt like it today. I decided on a ghazal to complement my second Street Photography Now Project photo, which I actually uploaded to the Flickr group on time.

The prompt for the week was the following quote: ”Turn your attention to the four-legged population” – Ying Tang. For many days, I carried my camera everywhere, trying to find a dog, cat, or perhaps even a squirrel to photograph. I learned in these few days that no one seems to own dogs in my neighborhood and squirrels are very jumpy creatures. As I was watching for four-legged animals, I noticed that at a certain time of day, people were casting shadow legs when they walked. So, instead of hunting real four-legged animals, I started hunting people’s feet. It’s much easier. Also, as someone pointed out to me on Flickr, the guy’s shoes has a puma on them, which is definitely four-legged.

I don’t really know why I chose a ghazal for this picture, other than it just felt right. (Maybe I was subliminally inspired to write one, since I recently bought a book of ghazals by John Hayes on Lulu.) I do know that I chose the refrain based on the fact that the shoe in the picture is extended upward, as if it’s about to lift off the ground. That little lift led me to flight, and to this poem.

Intimacy

I live with the smell of you
on my skin and hair.  You
are always there, sitting
one seat ahead or behind. Sharing
the space beside me. We both
do our best to ignore the other.
We rest our eyes against the sunlight, fight
to read our heavy books. We look
outside the window, watch the elms
and ashes blur to green and gray
streaks. All the while, we peek
at each other’s rumpled clothes. We
have always lived this close,
sat shoulder to shoulder
with strangers. Damn the danger
of breathing and living with people
we never know. You and I,
we’re just trying to get home.

***

I took the above picture on September 30, in response to the first prompt from the Street Photography Now Project.  Their goal is to post 1 prompt a week for a year, written by a prominent street photographer, and invite photographers to respond to the prompt with photos posted to a Flickr group. Photographers have 6 days to post their pictures.

I began taking pictures last week, in response to the following prompt/quote by Bruce Gilden: “If you can smell the street by looking at the photograph, it’s a street photograph.” As I was taking pictures, Aaron suggested that I write a poem in response to one picture per week. It seemed like a good idea, so I went for it.

Unfortunately, I misread the date cut-off for the first group, so I missed my deadline to submit on Flickr. I would have submitted this picture, if I hadn’t missed it. You can see all of my first week photos here. Hopefully, I’ll have better luck (and better attention to detail) with this week’s prompt.