Friday, December 14, 2012

{Adagio: A Poetry Project} Born in the Night



Today I give you a second offering of Adagio: A Poetry Project. Perhaps you saw the first poem? The one where Elizabeth Marshall and I each strung words on colored threads and then wove them together into one unified piece. That idea, of writing collaboratively, was what initially launched this project and it is the heart and soul of how we see this project growing.
But just as its name suggests, an Adagio is a dance between two partners. A dance in which there is a lifting, a balancing, a turning. So, today, we are dancing as individuals to the same music. There is a poem from me, here, and another poem from Elizabeth over at her place. Together and apart, we are writing from the same prompt, the hymn "Born in the Night, Mary's Child."

++++++++++++++++++++++++++


It is night when you come

We have not made it to a place that makes sense
a place proper 
a place right

But still 
you come

First
there is darkness
so
much
darkness

But then
you burst forth
pulling on skin and bone and sinew
and the light
it 
drips
molten
from your face

You
who at once
knows nothing
and
everything
You
are the one
that will tell us
that
God is good
even while
all around you
that early darkness
swirls
black

Hope
grips at your heels
a streamer
dancing and flapping
on the wind
and it
leaves
kingdom dust 
on the streets

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Writing is, most often, a solo venture, a process worked deep inside the confines of one’s heart and soul. But when two pilgrim poets turn towards each other and embrace the tension that lies between, something new emerges.  A writing “pas de deux” is born and the two begin weaving their words together, in and around, over and under, into something bigger than themselves. The writing becomes a lifting, a balancing, a turning…and the words on the page become an Adagio.


We would love for you to enter into this project with us. Please feel free to leave your own poem in the comments, either here or at Elizabeth's place. We welcome your choreography on this endeavor and we long to hear your offerings on the prompt.

12 comments:

  1. I find it interesting that you look at writing as a "solo venture." In my experience, most writers I know find that writing is the least solitary thing that they do in life. It's something that, in many ways, connects them with those around them, perhaps even those they see on a constant basis, in new and different ways. On top of that, most writing, at least on a professional level, is collaborative in many ways, involving a tiny micro-cosmic community of author, editor, publisher, illustrator, and half a dozen other people that one would never expect to be involved.


    I always find it strange when people think of writing as isolating or solitary. It just seems to me that it's the opposite.


    Best of luck with your writing, though.

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  2. Just Me,
    I am so glad that you shared your thoughts here because they challenge me to better clarify what I was trying to say. When I talk of writing being a "solo venture" I am describing the part of the process that requires one to dig deep and plunge daringly into spaces that are unique and personal. To me, that space is very lonely. But you are so very right when you say that writing can actually be the very thing that connects you with those around you. In fact, I have been overwhelmed with the way that people have surrounded me and provided me with encouragement, suggestions and questions on this writing journey. Many of those people have become dear friends and their relationships have had a huge impact on me as a writer. It was from one of those said friendships that this very project was born.
    Perhaps a better way of describing the process would be to say that it is multi-faceted--with aspects both solitary and communal.
    I will be thinking on what you shared here and, perhaps, seeing the act of writing differently as a result.
    Thank you for reading and for joining me in this space.

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  3. Holly, I read this over and over and hear new each time. It is such a work of your heart and yes song of praise to God for the gift of His son. Yes He is our hope in the darkness. The timing of this is sweet and bitter as I have just received two pieces of sadness. I cling to your words friend and cherish this friendship this side of glory.

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  4. Can I say that it something of a relief to find your lovely, thoughtful words here - following their usual track? We have all been so undone by the events of this weekend and I'm reading so many posts about it all, that I came to this space exhausted. And found rest. Thank you.

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  5. Thank you for walking with me, in this project and in the days to come. There is so much that can overwhelm us but to have each other, it is such a gift. Grabbing for your hand, knowing it will be there, open.

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  6. Thank you, Diana. This post went up before I learned of Friday's events but it's interesting how true the words still ring. And that rest you spoke of? It is not born of this world, not these days. It is a gift when it is found.Thankful for you, here, now and always.

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  7. You have such a gift. Your words just resonate in my heart, Holly. I am thankful you give of yourself here, so we can share in your light, even as you reflect His light.

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  8. Thank you for your kind words, Kaylee. It is often daunting, sharing my heart in this place, not knowing how it will be received. I am humbled that you are touched by visiting this space. Thankful for your presence here.

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  9. Holly, this is achingly beautiful. I realize you wrote this before Friday's horror, but coming here today, I found breath and my spirit says yes. This:


    You
    are the one
    that will tell us
    that
    God is good
    even while
    all around you
    that early darkness
    swirls
    black


    May we continue to tell that God is good as the darkness swirls black around us.

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  10. Ashley,
    I am so glad that you came here. Thank you for your words. Let us go out into that dark night, together.

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  11. I agree with Elizabeth -- it's new each time I read. I first read the poem a few days ago, and today it means what it meant then, and something more too. I love that.

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  12. Elizabeth, I am honored that you would come back again. I am so grateful for your presence here.

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