Last night an acorn awakened when the forest was still.
Everything was off in its own dream world
And she was lonely, maybe frightened.
She was too shy to wake some company
For they’d ask why and she’d have no answer.
So she went to sleep again,
And fell off the old oak tree.
Having braved this alone she was free
And felt truly beautiful falling in love with the earth now holding her.
~ Barbara Chomiak, age 16
I haven’t been posting — or walking — much lately because I’ve been working on a big project, which I hope to finish by winter solstice. While sorting through things I discovered the above poem which I wrote almost 50 years ago! It captures the essence of that adolescent angst I remember so well. Anyhow, I may not be posting for a bit longer but will return as soon as possible.
Enjoy the process! 🙂
Will do! 😊
Lovely painting and nice poetry.
Thank you, Peggy. 😊
That is very sweet. Good luck with your project!
Thank you, Anna! It’s coming along… 😊
The poem is wonderful. I look forward to anything you decide to post when the time is right for you.
Thank you, Ally. Looking back and looking forward — it’s proving to be an emotional roller coaster.
How I love coming across something I wrote decades ago and recalling what prompted me to write it (as well as how I — hopefully! — have grown). Enjoy your big project, Barbara, and your time away from blogging. If we don’t hear from you before then, have a lovely Thanksgiving, too!
Thank you, Debbie, and I hope you have a lovely Thanksgiving, too! I was living in Greece with my parents and sister when I wrote the poem, missing the woods of my childhood and coping with culture shock, trying to grow up and understand the confusing world.
Although I will selfishly miss your posts until you want to return, you have come upon an endearing project!
I had noticed that you weren’t posting. I’ve been sick in bed at home struggling to breathe as I came into contact with a person behind me coughing outrageously standing in line behind me for food. Of course I was masked and wearing a floor length dress with long sleeves for my immune compromised protection. It’s been 20 long days and nights. I have learned that I have RSV (the virus babies are having to go to the hospital for survival).
When I didn’t know what was the illness I had a nightmare so frightening that I heard my knee 18 year old fully reconstructed ACL popped loud enough to wake me.
I feel very much like this lady acorn, although I’m in my season of mid-sixty and no longer in the spring youth of sixteen.
Your poem spoke to me, Barbara. Thank you for sharing this poem in your season of spring. (I wonder if the poem was about you meeting Tim? Yet, no answer is acceptable and may be left to imagination).
I am so very sorry to hear that you’ve been so ill, TD. *hugs* 😟 I’ve read that RSV can survive for many hours on hard surfaces so a mask may not offer enough protection from that virus. We’ve gone back to using hand sanitizer after touching anything when we’re out and about. I wouldn’t be at all surprised if we come down with something sooner or later in spite of all our precautions. I do hope you’ll be on the mend soon — 20 days is an awfully long time to be down. 😟
The poem was written before I met Tim. I was living in Greece with my parents and sister, going to a small international high school, and was very homesick for the comforting New England woods of my childhood. I am a homebody by nature and don’t travel very well. All the same, I did find some comfort spending weekends hiking in the treeless mountains surrounding Athens, frequently crossing paths with a shepherd and his flock of sheep.
Endearing poem, Barbara!
Thank you, Donna!
Good luck on that project Barbara. I wish I was that ambitious and stuck to a project like that. The weather is not so great now to lure you away and outdoors again. I like the poem and I am reminded of a saying I heard years ago “a mighty oak is here because a tiny acorn held its ground”.
Thank you, Linda. I am making very good progress. I’ve been fighting my tendency to not start any project that I know I can’t finish in a day. I’m amazed I haven’t abandoned it yet. I keep reminding myself with the mantra, “little by little, a lot gets done.” I like your saying about the mighty oak — perhaps there is hope for me yet. 🙂
Well, think how good you will feel when it is all over and you can relax again. Whew – you make me feel like a sloth Barbara!
It’s been an albatross around my neck for years — it will feel good when I am finally free of it! I do miss my walks and blogging, though.
I know my basement is like that – I cleaned and got rid of a lot of stuff when I had the whole house insulation done in 2017. They made a big mess everywhere – garage and basement was bad. I also think I will be getting rid of all my work clothes, something I’ve resisted doing for years. I kept thinking “what if I leave here and go to a regular on-site job?” But pretty sure that won’t happen … I’m wishing he would retire. I want to get this house in order, but taking work out of the equation would be a good incentive to get it done.
Ah, if only I had a garage and then we gave up our basement by finishing it. Sigh. Now we have an extra bedroom but no storage space. You never know, Linda, the day may come when the time will finally be right to get rid of all your work clothes. It’s those “what ifs?” … worrying about what might come home to roost. But sometimes we get to a point where we decide to take our chances. (It took me forever!)
Dear Barbara, And to think I knew you when! You seem to have grown to be firmly rooted and well grounded I would say.
My dear friend, your comment made me suddenly realize that I’ve known you longer than I’ve known Tim! You were there before Greece and Tim came along after Greece.