There have been many wonderful things that have come out of my storm experience and the best of these are the connections I have made with beautiful, loving people all over the United States. Several of these new friends have shared their lives with me as well, and I would like to post two poems which were sent to me. The first is by DC area poet DJ Gaskin. She purchased a piece of mine and as we got to know each other through email, she wrote this poem. To read more about DJ please visit her site at
http://www.lionesspress.com/. The second is from Jim Curry, who lives in Rome, GA. Jim and I became acquainted during my stay in Rome a couple of months ago. He does not have a web site, but was kind enough to share this poem with me. I thank both of these people for their generosity in sharing their lives with me and allowing me to post their work on this site.
Artist of the Waters
for Lori Gordon
When the rains stopped
crashing and the ocean stopped
ravaging and the tears began
to slow,
only then, she stepped over
the rubble that was her own—
from plates to canvas,
from paints to shoes—stepped
into the rest, and began
to look.
Looking past the waste
of each castaway artifact—family
photo, mantelpiece, the post
of a bed, the leg
of a chair, a book, a comb, a still
life, a salt shaker, a magazine
cover in a language unknown,
a dog collar, a dress, the arm
of a doll—she meant
to see
beyond the tattered and torn and
broken things, to gaze
into the pain
of the loss
of each and the whole
that wove together each quilt
of a life. And in the seeing she began
to heal.
© 2007 DJ Gaskin
The Stream of Life
How wondrous is the stream of life;
She mostly gently flows,
And with ease she takes the varied turns,
As if intuitively she knows.
Some obstacles of nature
She encounters along the way,
But she molds herself around them,
Enfolds them as she may.
But let the mighty rains begin
Creating swell on swell,
And the stream of life from gentle state
Becomes a raging hell.
The result will not be pleasant;
There may be damage from the swell
And a sense that life has betrayed itself,
For all will not seem well.
But when the mighty rains subside,
Just wait, and you will see;
In time, a pleasant, gentle flow
Once more the stream will be.
James L. Curry, Jr.
