Tomorrow I Will Be

     wind remembering desert,

how sand speaks to itself

thinking no one can hear, sheds

tears which are not wet.

     Yesterday I was

water dreaming of my mother –

a yellow comet that turned

from ice to snow to sea.

     Once I was

stone; but it took too long

to say my name – so I dissolved,

became dust, storm – learned

to see possibilities.

     sometimes I am

sun kissing wind

hot against soft skin, and

     sometimes I am

moon singing secrets,

tasting darkness, reflecting

in things with shiny eyes.

     [Tammy Vitale]

turning

by Lucille Clifton (from the “Kali” poems)

turning into my own

turning on in

to my own self

at last

turning out of the

white cage, turning out of the

lady cage

turning at last

on a stem like a black fruit

in my own season

at last.

I had the amazing pleasure of being in a writing group with Lucille and a bunch of other local poets for about 2 years.  I got to know her better as her driver (for about a year) for dialysis.  She would read me poems she was working on – ones I’ve (sadly) never seen in print.

Her poetry is always spare – just the exact words needed – no more, no less.  Her gift was an ear that could take any words and make them sing – see where they dammed up, see where they wanted to excape. 

I stopped writing poetry in the late 90s because of stuff.  I went to a reading after that and saw her.  She asked if I were writing.  I said no.  She said:  “You must begin again.”  So I did.  I began writing blogs.  In the end it’s all about letting things flow.  Thanks Lucille – we miss you!

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