It’s Poetry Friday!
We are hosted by Linda Baie at TeacherDance this weekend.
Join us!
A couple of weeks ago, I fell in love with one of Robyn Hood Black’s artsyletters gems. Look at this! Not only the notebook, but all the goodies!
The Nevermores have been reading Ada Limon’s YOU ARE HERE: Poetry In the Natural World (2024; Milkweed).
I love how each poem situates the reader in their “now.” When I saw Robyn’s beautiful notebook, I thought it would be a perfect space for my own response poems. Sort of a way to capture where I am at the moment.
Then life stopped me in my tracks… A map and someone to help point the way? Perfect timing. After a bumpy few weeks of sad and juggling how to remain hopeful, I turned to a poetic form I learned about through Mary Lee’s post a couple of weeks ago. She credits Heidi M. for this poetic form, called a fault line poem. It sure feels appropriate.
Here is where I am now.
Strength?
We reach for you––impelled by instinct.
How vulnerable are the quaking aspen in fall
that must let leaves go–– here, now––
Do they beg for…courage? As pieces of themselves crumple
to the floor, do they whisper… resilience? Do they
gird roots to stand…steady the days
while colors drain? Find… endurance in rocky terrain?
Muddled dreams are… tough to swallow. Takes
heliotropic… tenacity to face mornings with hope.
We know… You are here – in the heartwood,
a wilderness without words. Searching
for meaning…We are here with you.
draft, PJF
(Thank you to Mary Lee H for your poem last week
and to Heidi M. for inspiring me to try this fault line form.)
Patricia Franz writes picture books and poetry. She believes children, dogs, and sourdough have a lot to teach us about life, joy, and wonder. She has raised two boys, four dogs, and holds a master’s degree in Theology with a focus on children’s spirituality. Patricia, her husband, her Bernese Mountain dog, Bonny, and her sourdough starter split their time between the Arizona desert and the Sierra Nevada mountains. 
Your fault line poem is so well done, Patricia. I’m moved by “How vulnerable are the quaking aspen in fall that must let leaves go–” every time I read it. There is so much we can learn from nature.
Patricia, I feel like I am standing at the edge of the fault line, and your beautiful poem made me feel like I am not alone. Love the “heliotropic…tenacity” and the “wilderness without words”…thanks for this!
Beautiful, hopeful, strong 🫶
a wilderness without words. Love! xo