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July 20, 2006

Lifting my face from
out of my hands
I see that the world
as it was is still there.

But I see too
that my hands
have opened like
two leaves and that
my old sunflower face
is turned towards light.

by Dick Jones of Patteran Pages

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  1. July 20, 2006 at 8:58 pm

    This is very moving, it really speaks to me in my current mood. Thank you.

  2. July 20, 2006 at 11:16 pm

    Oh, wonderful poem, Dick! Wonderful.

  3. July 21, 2006 at 3:23 am

    At last, Dick, you’ve graced qarrtsiluni with your presence! This is an especially shining gem.

  4. July 22, 2006 at 8:12 am

    I kept thinking of this poem and its images all day yesterday, Dick. Thank you.

  5. July 23, 2006 at 5:19 pm

    Wow! Many thanks to all four of you. I found it in one of a bundle of old poetry notebooks that had been buried under flotsam for some 13 years & only emerged following our recent house move. I dimly remember writing it very quickly in the meargin of another poem on which I was working very seriously. I thought at the time that it was ‘un petit rien’, but on re-reading it the other day it resonated. I’m glad to be able to share it with others.

  6. July 24, 2006 at 7:36 pm

    The way you present this scene twice, once from the inside, once from the outside, perhaps a subjective and objective view, yes, the world is remarkably still here, yes, your face is turned towards the sun of illumination like a sunflower, in so few lines, is nothing short of superb.

  7. Nancy Spivey
    July 25, 2006 at 7:56 am

    I really like this. Simple, yet meaningful.

  8. July 27, 2006 at 12:43 am

    There is something Japanese in the sweet roundness of this. I love your ‘old sunflower face’. In the poem, that is.

  9. August 1, 2006 at 9:15 pm

    “and that my old sunflower face
    is turned toward light.”

    this turn of phrase in particular feels very close to me somehow, and the poem as a whole clearly speaks of a very positive spiritual development. i think it was ibn al arabi who wrote of the ‘prayer of the heliotrope’ that keeps turning towards ‘the light.’ but this little poem of yours says it all, succinctly.

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