IPTN Conference 2020
Group Poem
This year, as the conference was held on the zoom platform, the group poem was produced in a different manner. Each participant entered a line into the chat room at the same time.
The promise, elusive, hungry, distant, present, sated, I see me.
Falling free like autumn leaves sleeping, winter with ease.
The tear thief dried my tears.
Speaking about light, in the dark.
We stumble blind as moles into a future we did not foresee.
The strand that’s threaded through my days.
I am an anarchist.
Ah sweet delirium, a dreamscape.
Swim up! Do not drown!
The glow of the promise of change.
It is not comfortable to hold you, but you keep me honest and afraid to be silent.
Thorny worries which snag constantly on my gossamer wings of hope for a better tomorrow.
If I had known, all I had to do was open the door.
In a veil of shedding skin my three inch lilies looked beautiful on the starched pillow.
She sits on her Throne repleted.
The jasmine tumbling endlessly on the hedge, just for the sake of it.
Always, always, always a low discomfort haunts you to the very edges of yourself.
Conversations around a café table of hurt and grief and loss.
Some of the best things, some of the worst things, make no sense.
Tell the bees your worries, they will take them on their wings and fly them away.
All of the wrongs are righted all of the tears are shed.
