Spiritual Courage

I have had an idea to write about my experience by the New River the day in June we stopped there as part of my current writing project. I was kind of putting it off, not feeling the right words coming my way.  This afternoon I started feeling guilty for having done no writing today; then I thought of a  poetry form I haven't tried in quite some time.  It seemed like the time to try again.

I have no idea what this form is called, but it consists of 16 lines, 8 that repeat in a specific order.  These poems can be done pretty badly.  It takes some time and effort to put them together so they sound right.  I had never had much success with that.

But I had the right subject matter this time. I put on some music that reminds me of the place I am writing about, and I thought about the photos I had from it, past and more recent.  I thought of all the important moments I had by this river.  You see, the first time we went to the cabin was in October 1993.  It had been a terrible year, as my husband had blown out his back, the surgery was not successful, and our finances were in shambles because he was no longer working. When we had the opportunity to make the trip to the new cabin his aunt and uncle had built, we felt it was our only chance to take a vacation from the stresses we were facing.

This is the spot that is the focus of the poem

At the time I was reading a book by Joan Borysenko called Fire in the Soul: A New Psychology of Spiritual Optimism my friend Iris had lent me. I have always believed it was a combination the concepts in the book, the trip to the mountains, and the incredible life changes we were going through that helped me gain some spiritual optimism, much of which I have never lost.  It is one of those things that just stuck with me.

Now, back to the poem.  Here is the sequence to follow in writing the poem:

1
2
3
4

2
5
4
6

5
7
6
8

7
3
8
1

And here is how it looks:

The afternoon I stood by the New River

I didn’t think about all the prayers the water held

The times I begged forgiveness, sought sanctuary

Searching for a vein of gold in the river rock

I didn’t think about all the prayers the water held

I did not pull a stone, nor did I toss one

Searching for a vein of gold in the river rock

Spiritual courage was found in this mountain stream

I did not pull a stone, nor did I toss one

I once spent an afternoon here reading Rumi poetry

Spiritual courage was found in this mountain stream

I knew somehow this place had made my dreams come true

I once spent an afternoon here reading Rumi poetry

The times I begged forgiveness, sought sanctuary

I knew somehow this place had made my dreams come true

The afternoon I stood by the New River