Heart Drum

 

 

I am on one of the last steps towards publication of a two-volume collection of nearly 400 poems, all from the voice of feminine collective.  I had typed up a rough draft with an index etal, but I just could not finish it.  For the long weekend, we had an incredible West Coast Canadian poet and his daughter.   What an incredible honor to have them here.  We did nothing but talk writing, poetry, Muse, for hours and hours. 

I had stalled on publishing as it had me feeling overwhelmed, and perhaps too critical of my writing.  (So sayeth, my dearest, most beloved West Coast Poet).  I had an epiphany as he spoke, saying that the collection HAD to be published.  I trust him and his critique of my poetry collection was enough to give me a swelled head.  He is doing me the great honor of editing and prepping the document for publication. I am, also, going to send it to his publisher.  He has eight or nine books published by them.  I hope to have it out and ready by the New Year. 

  

It saddens me that I have not been able to dig deeply enough into my soul to continue to write poetry.  It hurts in there and there is grief in there that would color my poetry and make me a Sylvia Plath type writer.  That would not be me.  But that space I go to do my art is nearly the same place that I do my poetry.  I can still be inspired to do art, but not many of my paintings smile, if you have noticed.  So, I know they are colored by that same brush from the shadow side of my heart and soul.

 

Once there was a group of about a dozen on a great poetry site.  We wrote every day.  We had great discussions on line through email and messengers.  We saw the new poetry for the night/day and we came to know each other so very well.  Marc and I have known each other for nearly a decade.  Wanda and I longer than that.  We have lost two of our group and suddenly age and illness is knocking us back a bit.  And, then there is grief as Wanda and I deal with similar issues of abandonment and loss.  Neither of us (and we were prolific writers) has been able to access that sacred space.  Perhaps, with the encouragement of Marc, who we both admire greatly, we can be tempted into dipping our pens into ink again. 

In the meantime, I will be keeping you up on the different phases of getting published.  I will share tidbits as well.  Please pray for our pens.

©Carol Desjarlais 9.6.22