"I can see the wind pick up it’s pace.
The skies have turned moody again.
Will it be a blizzard, she piped in her little voice
holding tightly to my hand, lest I be blown away."
In life we are both the flow and the stock. The flight and the roots. Logical and unhinged. Reasonable and petulant. Generous and anarchic. We are all this, we are all this together. Often in seriatim, more often overlapping.
When a child quizzes us on the ironies of nature or the dualities of ...
"I can see the wind pick up it’s pace.
The skies have turned moody again.
Will it be a blizzard, she piped in her little voice
holding tightly to my hand, lest I be blown away."
In life we are both the flow and the stock. The flight and the roots. Logical and unhinged. Reasonable and petulant. Generous and anarchic. We are all this, we are all this together. Often in seriatim, more often overlapping.
When a child quizzes us on the ironies of nature or the dualities of the universe, we realise how much of a paradoxical concoction we are. And not only do we hold these contrasts within us, we also get by with a balancing act. We are a miracle, of dreaming of rootlessness while working hard to be rooted. We sometimes fail ourselves by swinging one way or the other. But if we’ve nurtured ourselves well, we would not let strong winds blow us away, and still get to enjoy their breeziness in our hair.
A tree is an easy analogy.
But how do you explain to a child that if the tree doesn’t let it’s fruit fall or let go of the pollen in its flower, it will not spread out its goodness. That sowing your wild oats, with all its negative connotations, is also the way to expand your world. That being rootedness is a virtue but it should not translate as being stuck in the mud. That a mind has to be open and free, to let the winds from all directions to flow in, and out, and to take one to mysterious places.
Because the roots have to be inside, to be the gyroscope when the compass goes wild, like the metal spine of a roller coaster which can throw you in all directions but will never let you fly wildly in thin air.
To be steady is an art, but to fly is the only way to grow.
If you liked this poem, consider listening to these other poems on rains & storms -
- Bringing The Storm Home
- Waiting For A Storm
Follow me on Instagram at @sunilgivesup.
Get in touch with me on uncutpoetrynow@gmail.com
Subscribe to my incandescent and poetic newsletter The Uncuts here - https://theuncuts.substack.com.
The following music was used for this media project:
Music: Flight Pack 1 - 4/6 (Segeln) by Sascha Ende
Free download: https://filmmusic.io/song/179-flight-pack-1-46-segeln
License (CC BY 4.0): https://filmmusic.io/standard-license
Artist website: https://www.sascha-ende.de
Music: Childhood by Sascha Ende
Free download: https://filmmusic.io/song/448-childhood
License (CC BY 4.0): https://filmmusic.io/standard-license
Artist website: https://www.sascha-ende.de
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