Caravanserai and Other Poems by Annelinde Metzner

This set of poems reflects on ways we humans have responded creatively, expansively and artistically to the challenges of our times.  Of course, two of the poems center upon music, one of the strongest themes of my own life.  The first and last poems are ways that the natural world is always knocking at the door, saying, “pay attention.”

Like this

“Like this,” says the titmouse,
     hanging upside down to get at the suet.
“If you really want it, there it is.”
“Like this,” says the January sun,
     one day icing us to our bones,
     and today like Spring,
     warm enough for rides
     on little boys’ new scooters.
“Like this,” say the squirrels,
     entranced with each other,
     whirling ’round the branches,
     twining fluffy tails,
     intent on making new Squirrel babies.
“Like this,” says the chickadee,
     landing near my toe,
     tiny and brave, ready to eat,
     scolding me to get out of the way.
“You are here to live,
     so live.”

Caravanserai

In the wide open courtyard of the Caravanserai,
in the ancient days of the Silk Road across Asia,
traveling merchants stopped for the night,
unloading wonders from afar, ready for a meal,
eager for a moment’s pleasure in music from afar-
the oud, the tabla, the pipa. 
Sharing with respect for all, at the caravanserai.
The dance troupe today is inspired by this,
Middle Eastern dance with a Martha Graham flair,
true to the spirit of innovation and openness.
Fodder for the animals, food for the riders 
weary from a long day’s travel, 
completing the many miles to the next stop.
Then the music, and the dance!
A little of this, a little of that, 
the time-worn truth in music, 
theft is the biggest compliment!
Loving all our differences, and never bored,
we all dance, we all sing, we all play,
reaching out in the universal language of music,
and it’s a good day, at the caravanserai.

The Flowering Bridge  

This is what we humans do
    when left to our own devices.
When the smartphones are powered down,
    when no one is checking Facebook,
    when the TV is turned off, no news,
    no sales pitches or catastrophes,
when the beautiful world turns quiet,
    and no one is vying for our attention,
we humans plant a garden.
Here is the work of whomever may please,
    bulbs and bushes, herbs and trees,
    a delight for the eye and a Mecca for bees.
Someone displays a rose trellis,
    someone a wall of mirrors.
Does anyone care that nothing is perfect,
    each space added-to, helter-skelter,
    no end to the creative energy?
The soul sniffs deeply and says “aaahhh!”
When the world once more turns quiet,
    and no one is vying for your time 
    or your money,
    we humans will plant a garden.

The music teachers 

“Shake it to the east, shake it to the west,
     Shake it to the one that you love the best….”

The young music teachers’ eyes gleam in their college cubicles
     as they study, study, study
     the music of all the world.

“Step it, step it, step it down.  Remember me….”

On the diploma, “Fine Arts,” a college degree,
     each note, each measure of music gathered up and treasured,
     building a matrix of joy in the heart
     to support us all for a lifetime.

“De colores, de colores se visten los campos en la primavera…..”

Studying the songs and dances
     that bring us all together, the whole human race,
     passed down from person to person, child to child
     over millennia, yes, millennia.
Why? “It’s good for the children,” says Bessie Jones,
     Sea Island mother of music, 
     surehandedly guiding us all.

“Shalom chaverim, shalom chaverim….”
     

We study each culture, ever more in love
with how this music is what truly matters,
     this music that holds the world together.
We memorize details of steps, costumes, melodies, harmonies,
     songs in ancient modes, polyrhythms,
     feats of mind and body set to music,
     all for this shared joy.

The smile on the partner’s face, 
     the warm touch of hands clasping,
     the harmony in two, three, four, five parts,
     pulling us all together, tighter and tighter.

“A ram sam sam, a ram sam sam…”

The music teacher comes to her classes full of children
     and she knows, she knows
     we will endeavor to preserve this, to love this,
     to keep the proud meters and the intricate steps,
     with our bodies and our voices joined in love,
     remembering as we move and sing,
     what is important in this world.

“Sansa Kroma, nee-nay wo, a-che-che koko-ma…”

The music teachers with years of experience
     hear the new politics, the hatred, the viciousness,
     the ignorance, the bigotry, and we say, “NO.”
Decades of our lives, pulling this all together,
     the pride and the joy in children’s eyes learning the dance, the song,
     and “NO!” We will not give way
     to suspicion, lies and separation after all this joy.

“Miss Mary Mack, Mack, Mack,
     all dressed in black, black, black….”

All our lives have we woven our children, your child and mine,
     into a fine tapestry of all our abilities,
     stepping and singing to the World’s beat,
     together creating a future full of love.

“Brown girl in the ring, tra-la-la-la-la……”

With the people of all cultures we stand,
     knowing this is a world filled with music,
     every imaginable rhythm,
     new sounds yet unheard,
     steps we have yet to find,
because this is what matters: the love, the love,
     each people unique and brilliant, our lives all interwoven,
     all of our notes a symphony,
     all of our steps a path.

(Words in italics are from children’s songs of the world.)

Mystery

As the edges of the hawthorn leaves
     creep toward yellow and brown,
as the cicada’s peep grows long in the night,
as birds fly straight and high toward warmer climes,
I hear this: “Be not afraid!
You sit in witness to Mystery
     huger than you can know.
Be not afraid!
The anger of man dances around you
      and through your dreams,
      but we have magic so much greater than this!
Be not afraid!
Tender-hearted woman, as the rushing creek
     lifts fallen leaves to a new life,
     so, joyfully, we carry you
     to places beyond your ken
Do not fear for the world.
As the days grow cold, bending toward darkness,
be at peace, dear one!
We are carrying you
     in ways you cannot know.”

Annelinde Metzner
Black Mountain, North Carolina

BIO: Annelinde Metzner honors the Divine Feminine with her poetry and music. Her praise songs for the Goddesses are included in her songbook, “Lady of Ten Thousand Names,” She has created and produced many concerts of her poetry and music in the Asheville, NC area, including most recently, “A House for the Goddess.” She is music director at the UUCSV in Black Mountain, NC, and founded the women’s choirs Womansong and Sahara Peace Choir. http://annelindesworld.blogspot.com