It has been awhile since I have written a blog post. I signed up to blog once a week at the beginning of the year, and have failed miserably to meet my goal.
So, what have I been doing these past three months? Well, I attended a ten-week poetry workshop, wrote poems, researched writing programs, read twelve books, travelled to Nashville, and sold my house. And, as if that were not enough, two weeks ago, as I was packing up my kitchen I was notified that Cirque Press out of Anchorage, Alaska is ready to move forward with publication of my first book of poems, which caused me to dance around my empty home in absolute delight.
Endings and beginnings seem to be a constant theme in my life. Since I was a child, I have moved every few years. Even as a young girl I remember the allure a new place had on me. In equal measure, I also had feelings of homesickness connected with leaving, which left me feeling conflicted.
I still love new adventures, and by nature I am a flexible and curious person who is not afraid to try something new. But I also know, with each new adventure and opportunity my heart gets broken a bit each time, because I am always open to attach myself to the people I meet or the landscape I walk on, and by caring for both, I allow myself to experience what can be the beautiful paradox of heartbreak.
At the end of this week, I head to California for a few weeks of reflection, then back to the Pacific Northwest to begin the search for another home. I have already begun scouting out a new writing community in the Portland area, but I have no intent to leave the community I have made here. The roads that take us to each other will just be different and not even necessarily longer, especially when you factor in bridges and ferry rides!
As I have been reflecting about what I will gain in this move, and what I will miss, I wrote the following poem. As Dorothy told the Scarecrow in The Wizard of Oz, “I think I’ll miss you most of all.”
At Her Last Poetry Class
when they ask her
what she will miss most
she answers
all that water
boom of surf at Bastendorff Beach
field of whitecaps on the Coos Bay Bar
seasick swells of the Pacific
brisk current of Rosario Strait
narrow roil of Deception Pass
Light-year twinkle on Admiralty Inlet
mirror of Mats Mats bay
foamy wake behind the Bainbridge Ferry
swirl of kelp beds off Burrows Island
When they ask her
what she will miss most
she answers
all that water
Yours in poetry,
Carey
Carey Taylor 