November Meditation (Letter to Myself)

Mar 1, 2024 | 2024 Spring - Letters to Myself, Poetry

By Mārta Ziemelis

If your own mind is too loud to bear,
if the world feels like it’s shattering
faster than you can comprehend,
try letting the woods talk to you.
The woods at dusk speak their own language.
Listening becomes easier
if you let the rhythm of walking
silence your thoughts.
Let the deep, gnarled roots,
the feather-soft needles of pine trees
hold your anxiety.
Step slowly.
Let the soil, the leaf-mulch scented like spices
carry you when your feet are unsteady.
Let the bright pink streaks in the sky,
fading to amethyst gray,
gently embrace your loneliness.
Let the curling, papery bark of leafless birches
brush your cheek as you breathe.
This communion
may not mend the world’s great wounds,
but it will sing softly to you,
endless small hope-notes
of life and spirit renewing.


Mārta Ziemelis is a Tkaronto (Toronto)-based emerging poet and established literary translator.

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