Two poems originally written in free verse believable, that transformed into more tightly structured forms.
Poems of Recovery
By Phil Hefner
Grounding
1/17/2023
My search is for grounding
for the deep-down of things
where freshness of living
is to be found
that’s where I can stand
when my world spins
beyond my comfort zone
twists in forms beyond
my understanding
call it really real
where there’s a center
that holds where chaos
is calmed where
everlasting arms
reach to hold me
firm
where is this ground
how will I find those arms
perhaps in heaven above
or a memory of a past love
or best of all in you dear friend
Grounding: a sonnet
1/26/2023
My search is for the deep-downness of things,
Where streams of life flow unimpeded, strong
And undergirded by rock-solid earth. I long
For the center that holds when chaos brings
Fears and shakes me from my comfort zone.
Twisting my world in ways beyond my ken.
I reel and falter, in a state of vertigo. And then
It dawns on me: I seek the really real, the tone
Of the cantus firmus, the melody that grounds
And envelopes me with its resonating sounds—
like the mother-God’s everlasting arms—
Protecting me from all besetting harms .
Where do I find grounding —over the rainbow in skies of blue?
In the memory of past love? Or, dear friend, in you?
I’ve found the ground
2/3/2036
I’ve found the ground
that I sought
but I am not where I was
th ground has shifted
I jumped into the air
but did not land
in the same place
The world is still there
but it is a different world
Up is heaven
here below the earth
the people are here
but it’s a different world
and I need a map
For stable worlds
gazetteers abound
not much help
for a world that’s changed
gazetteers abound
not much help
For a world that’s changed
We wander life’s wilderness without a map
2/8/2023
We wander life’s wilderness without a map
We wander. Life’s wilderness without a map,
Affords no straight line route for travel,
There is no short cut, every road may be a trap.
Atlas, compass and gazetteer of no avail.
So, we wander life’s wilderness. Without a map,
it’s a trackless jungle full of dangers and peril.
A desert’s endless dunes—our minds snap,
Our eyes see mirage where there’s only sand aswirl.
We wander life’s wilderness without a map,
But we rely on our own heart’s compass,
Our own sense of true North—we wrap
Our hopes in humble prayer, because—alas!—
We wander life’s wilderness without a map.
(c) Phil Hefner 2023
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