The Brevity of Oneness

I’ve been thinking a lot about the connection, and disconnection of our bodies and spirits. This poem further explores this thought; writing this poem really expanded my mind past the bounds of societal constraints on human anatomy, and into the realm of spiritual curiosity in relation to my earth-standing self.

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The Brevity of Oneness

by Regan Smith

• • •

I know that my soul is separate
from my body,
for there are times where my body continues
to move, continues to breathe

but my soul is three steps removed,
overlooking this body
from a bird’s eye view.

It controls this drone of
legs and arms and eyes
moving it’s gaze from
left to right,
to smile at a stranger,
and the footing’s next step

but my feelings are
locked and sprouted within this soul,
detached
from the bones and muscles.

I wonder if my body
and soul will every marry,
for they’ve been separate for
quite some time,
allowing the brevity of oneness,
for the duration of a dance,
for my mother’s embrace,
for the exhilarating
jump from plane high–
temporarily united
as we soar through air,
falling through clouds,
occupying the space
that’s only meant for
the amakihi,
the white-tailed tropicbird,
the golden plover.

My body gets bathed,
but my soul can still hold shame.

My spirit can be filled,
and overflowing,
yet the peach figure I see,
is in languish with night
still ringing around her eyes.

And I know that my body,
will fall to the earth,
decompose and wrap itself with
the roots,

but my soul will soar,
for it has shed its weight,
and reunited with the
totality of eternity.

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Photography by Farrah Emami.

End Still

I wrote this poem late last year, during a time where the hurt from family health issues weighed heavy on my heart. It was birthed out of the need to process, pen to paper, the hurt but recognizing that beauty still survives and thrives around us. That sometimes the best healing is staying in stillness. The photo that Farrah paired together brought me to tears. It reminded me of this once again - that everything is temporary, but the bird’s song still sings.

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End Still

By Regan Smith

• • •

The fall birds congregate in the trees,
greatly outnumbering the barely-shaken leaves.

Their rainstick roar
reminds me that everything is temporary,
nothing is fixed—
and that observing holds a special freedom.

The air is so beautiful here.

Stay still, saturate,
and hear their song.

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Photography by Farrah Emami.

That Consistent Question

Writing without rules or constraints from even punctuation, this way of the pen offers a clear channel from mind to paper, without any hinderances. This stream of consciousness uncovers my vocation.

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That Consistent Question

By Regan Smith

• • •

I pose the question that I’ve asked my mirror reflection for the past decade am I happy with what I have become when I was sixteen I whispered in the night that I wouldn’t make my twenty-first birthday due to the death of my own hand whether that was an overdose of substance or overdose of the absence of food or the overdose of dark thoughts causing my own undoing but I am standing here strong and tall learning each day to love the bones and body I was born into knowing that I was created for a purpose with this moment held sacred and close to my heart and I can say with confidence that I’m happy with what I have become a life alive with breathing lungs that lose breath from laughter with arms that hold those I love and a voice that declares freedom and breakthrough and words that I can share with another sixteen year old girl that whispers to herself in the night

Equinox

A short and sweet poem by Mark J. Mitchell pours out feelings of familiarity. It swells in my mind, allowing me to look out towards the horizon and reflect on how I spend my days, hours, minutes.

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Equinox

By Mark J. Mitchell

• • •

Nostalgia rains across split light.
Days drop to one side or the other
like rivers divided by a ridge.

Evening hovers beyond the gate.
It will finally arrive once
you’ve spent blinding hours looking west.

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Mark J. Mitchell’s latest novel, The Magic War is published by Loose Leaves Publishing. He studied writing at UC Santa Cruz under Raymond Carver and George Hitchcock. His work has appeared in the several anthologies and hundreds of periodicals. Three of his chapbooks— Three Visitors, Lent, 1999, and Artifacts and Relics—and the novel, Knight Prisoner are available. He lives with his wife, the activist Joan Juster and makes a living pointing out pretty things in San Francisco.

Photography by Farrah Emami.

Perhaps Tomorrow

Perhaps Tomorrow is a poem with intentionality laced within its contents. The paired photograph portrays an ethereal nostalgia; I truly believe the power of poetry and photography can bring forth emotion in such a unique way. Join me in welcoming Lou to the Introspective Collective guest author community, with this stunning work.

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Perhaps Tomorrow

By Lou Faber

• • •

Perhaps
tomorrow will be the day
when on stepping
out of bed
I will step out
of my body.
I will go into
the garden and pick
a chrysanthemum,
two daylilies, two 
or three Echinacea,
and odd bits
of reed and green.
I will take my ikebana dish
and stare at it
imagine each flower
just so, or so, or so.
Only when they
sing in harmony
do I place them
into the dish,
and step back
into my body.
I hear the garden
mourn the missing
blooms as I
remember my faded
childhood and walk
off toward noon.

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Louis Faber is a poet and retired attorney and college literature teacher, residing in Rochester, New York and Coconut Creek, Florida.  His work has previously appeared in Exquisite Corpse, Rattle, Cold Mountain Review, Eureka Literary Magazine, among many others, and has been nominated for a Pushcart Prize.  His book of poetry, The Right to Depart, was published by Plain View Press. He blogs daily at https://anoldwriter.com.

Photography is by Farrah Emami.

Resisting the Tides

I’m so thrilled to welcome Juanita as a guest author on Introspective Collective. Resisting the Tides is a truly beautiful poem full of strength, courage, and encourages a state of mindfulness amidst turbulence.

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Resisting the Tides

by Juanita Rey

• • •

I’m sitting on a rock
and the tide is rolling in around me.
I’m separating from the land.
There’s nothing underfoot but water.

The waves slap on either side
like the fists of a wife-beater
but I determined to remain calm,
to not move from my tiny island.

I know it’s all the moon and sun’s doing.
All those gravitational forces
acting on a spinning globe.
But, when you’re actually sitting here,
with ocean swirling around you,
it feels much more personal than that.

The pounding doesn’t stop me thinking.
The spray can’t interfere with my reminiscing.
This is my sanctuary.
I think of home and family,
not drowning.

Eventually, the tide pulls out.
It’s met its match.
Other rocks appear now.
Maybe other women will join me.

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Juanita Rey is a Dominican poet who has been in this country (United States) for five years. Her work has been published in Pennsylvania English, Harbinger Asylum, Petrichor Machine and Porter Gulch Review.

Accompanying photograph is by Farrah Emami.