Folded Footnotes: Where Stories Meet

There are thoughts that evoke meaning and come in riddled form. I suppose the word is poetry? I wrote this after working with 6 other tellers. We shared and supported each other in our storytelling, and the next day, their tales melted into verse, a taste of our tales, sampled and shared here as a poem I call, ‘Where stories Meet”.

Where Stories Meet:

Mushrooms grow from excrement

Popping from volcanic rock 

From the goop of the cow pasture.

Magic spores carry life from darkness to light,

Like owl and crow, whether silently soaring, or screaming loudly 

Their song cannot be silenced.

So too stories come. 

Watching from yesterday’s trees

Landing on rocky lives, seeding souls.

In darkness and light,

They sing from all quarters

From human voice, from song and poem.

From the closested pipes of music hall theater

From the gentle strings of folk guitars 

Story soothes the fearful frog. 

Smiling. A ridiculous clown

Linking emotion to timelessness 

To people and place.

From the world past. 

To the world present

and hopeful future?

The power of story slaps the heart. 

A ‘whap‘ of a palm frond. 

A forgetful father.

For just a moment awakened, and aware

Story removes the plastic cover of our Cadillac existence. 

Driving us to a new place and delivering us renewed.

mike@mikeperry.biz