Since beginning this little space for writing, I have realized how much I want to communicate my understanding of a concept which I used as the title of this blog: draft and shadow. I wrote my first piece in a prose-y poem that really is not poetry. But something in me makes me break it into lines that look like a poem. It’s never satisfied me, so I’ve continued to roll it around in my head. Now I’ve written a second draft (draft! there it is again!), and I’m relatively certain that I’ll continue to think and hone and edit it into another form. But isn’t that writing? I don’t want this space to be about an attempt at perfection, but rather a confession of imperfection and an embracing of the process of writing. So here is Draft and Shadow II:
These words are draft and shadow,
only intimations of ideas beyond
and outside of language.
I, too, am draft and shadow:
a breath, a vapor, a transient pilgrim
on her way home.
This world–but draft and shadow–
near riddle, if truth be told.
Nothing imperishable or solid,
all changeable and fleeting.
An exquisite whiff of a greater beauty,
an inkling of mysteries unfathomable.
Imagination beats its tiny fists
trying to open the doors of that reality.
I am drawn by its draft.
I am sheltered in its shadow.