The Cliff
There is a fierceness here, that takes the shoulders of the soul, and shakes it.
The Cliff
Wind explodes on the cliff
and the voice is still heard
from the water
moaning
low and rumored
like the brass belly of a hunting horn
and the arms open to take its breath
and hear it shouting
of the urgent sea on the rocks below
of the hands gathering sand
and of the air
combing the wild feathers of a single gull
there is a fierceness here
that takes the shoulders of the soul
and shakes it
into whiteness, into the falling horse-tails
of succeeding waves
where it laughs, undaunted, broken open
into its own hugeness
into the thunder that goes beyond the sea
and lifts
and rises as the wave recedes.
-from Songs for Coming Home
Songs for Coming Home is currently out of print, though used copies of this collection can often be found online.
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And how hard it can be and necessary to carry that fierceness with us
I am reminded of Monet's Cliff Walk at Pourville with his two young future stepdaughters painted above the sea walking at the edge on a sunny day. It was gifted to me by a boyfriend in Chicago and hung on my apartment wall until I gifted it to an incoming couple. The print disturbed me because I felt like I was cliff walking with him and I didn't want to take that feeling with me back to CA. This poem is fierce yet so gentle. The wind stroking the gull. I can feel it shaking me to my core but I don't feel afraid of how it could blow me apart from the inside out. This is a cleansing wind that fills my lungs with the breath of life. I can breathe more deeply after reading it. It depicts the Yin and Yang of life. No hidden agendas here. Raw and vulnerable. I love this poem.