Riptide and Other Poems

By Carolyn Chilton Casas

Riptide

Recall being gripped 		
by the riptide, 			
the sudden panic 		
when it seemed Neptune’s net 
was mightier
than your mortal self,
the sharp awareness 
that measured strokes forward 
would get you nowhere.

In another place, in another time,
dragged into a pummeling 
with Poseidon, 
you rack your mind 		
for what you’ve learned
from undertows.  
That’s right, sometimes
a roundabout slant 
is necessary.

Out of the blue,  			
a will surfaces 			
to hold fear at bay. 
You remember 
to draw in 
the deepest possible breath 
before going under.
Now waves wash over
rather than beat you down.

In the end, primordial powers 
of spirit 
are summoned,
the ones bequeathed to you
at birth
and honed through time.

How to Hold Hope

Hope can be a slippery eel,
barely discernible from a distance 
through murky water,
nearly impossible to hang on to.

Floating on the ebb and flow 
of currents is conducive to hopefulness, 
along with a splash of conviction
that if you remain steadfast, 
hope will seek you out.

Hope needs to feel you are one 
of its tribe, a kin, 
that you have the same stripes 
and move in parallel ripples.

Once you have located hope, 
grip it loosely.
It may depart but will likely return 
because of the home you made for it 
in the ocean of your heart.

The Earthen Jug

A lifetime is like a tall, earthen jug		
formed from a smattering of wet clay
by the hands of one who loves us, 
fired at high heat until resilient,
sturdy and steady enough 
to withstand		
being jostled
by a clumsy gesture.
A vessel to simultaneously
hold who we were,
who we are,
and who we are becoming.
When thirsting for answers,
we can tilt the pitcher 
to pour out our memories,
the joyful, the mundane, and the jarring.
We take needed nourishment 
from the happenings that mold us.
We draw sustenance
from this container crafted with care.
Oh beloved, age-old receptacle,
I want to daily fill you with 
the sweet wine of life, the everyday holy.

Born Anew

I shall not lament 
the splintered state 
of the world, 
not yet,
nor will I ever give in.
Where there is happiness
and love, forever 
there will be hope 
and light,
hidden, though it be 
at times, 
under a sacrifice 
of adaptation.

If we are fissured by life, 
we are fractured 
like giant trees 
scorched by lightning, 
born into a new way 
of being, 
to an altered purpose—
a trunk hollowed out 
to make a fox’s den, 
or mulch created 
for the next 
new seedling to take root 
in the forest.

Carolyn Chilton Casas is a Reiki master and teacher whose favorite themes to write about are nature, mindfulness, and ways to heal. Her articles and poems have appeared in Braided Way, Energy, Grateful Living, Odyssey, Reiki News Magazine, and in other publications. You can read more of Carolyn’s work on Facebook, on Instagram @mindfulpoet_, and in her first collection of poems Our Shared Breath or a forthcoming collection titled Under the Same Sky.