Welcome to Mythopoetic Seeking, my new blog devoted to exploring poetry therapy, the practice of seeking health and wholeness through both reading and creating literature. I am a neophyte to the field, though I have for years been a called story teller which is one piece of the puzzle for me. I'll share more about that as we go. I hope to connect with other's interested in the field so that we can share our intentions, our wisdom, and our dreams.
Since the beginning of the year I've adopted a practice of spending a little time each day writing. I'll launch the blog by sharing a poem about an encounter with my father that has haunted me for a lifetime. When I was about ten he wanted to read to me the well know poem "In Flanders Fields" by John McCrae, a beautiful and moving poem that I was certainly not ready for. I lapsed into uncontrollable giggling (which was common for me) and he let me know how disgusted he was with me, how disgusting I was.
In Flanders Fields my father dreamed
Of noble verse, high minded thoughts
As I walked innocently by
He halted me to hear those words
I might not learn in school
He would be pleased I knew
If I attentive, grateful, heard
From him those noble verses read.
I giggled.
Sternly, he began again.
I really tried. Despairingly
I tried to hold at bay
My glee and his contemptuous glare
And failing as a literary don
He taught disgust.
I took the lesson in
Oh I took up
my quarrel with the foe
That lurked
inside, recoiling from The shame he planted there
And fought the futile battles till I know
That there are places less remarked
Where blood is shed, than Flanders Fields
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