Poems by Annelinde Metzner

For five days this March, I gifted myself with a stay at the Meher Baba Center in Myrtle Beach, South Carolina. I often plan short getaways to help me find my center and decompress from everyday life.  The contrast between “worlds” is very great when you’re staying in a pristine nature preserve with the overwhelming commercialism of Myrtle Beach right outside the gates.  I knew that this retreat was helping me to deal with a similar conflict I felt in my body, from the pain and stress of living in this moment in time. Poems flowed easily, and I’m grateful for that.

Retreat in Myrtle Beach                         

A preserve of five hundred acres, 
here on the South Carolina coast,
where fresh-water lagoons teem with waterbirds
just across the forested dunes from the breaking ocean waves.
Turtles sun in the grass,
deer leap and raise generations.
A preserve! and out beyond the gates,
over the protecting wall,
is Myrtle Beach, another type of Mecca.
Come out the gate, and it’s “Hooters!”
then, “Tsunami Beach Souvenir Shop!” (everything on sale!)
then, “Maui Beach Miniature Golf,” with an exploding volcano!
and of course, “the MAGA Megastore,”
who’ll sell you anything you could want or need.
This morning I awoke in my sweet-smelling cabin,
little propane heater in the old fireplace
keeping me warm.
And here is the teaching:
Plant your feet on the Earth.
Love this greenness, these creatures,
love Yourself,
because the entire off-kilter, out-of-balance,
koyaanisqatsi (*) world out there
is depending on You: feet planted, 
head in the stars.

(*) “Koyaanisqatsi” is a 1982 American non-narrative documentary film directed and produced by Godfrey Reggio, featuring music by Philip Glass and cinematography by Ron Fricke. Described as an “essay in images and sound on the state of American civilization,” the title comes from the Hopi word koyaanisqatsi, meaning “life out of balance”.

Supple                                                 

Here on the South Carolina shore,
it’s almost Spring.
I’ve seen a bee and a wasp!
come forth from their winter sleep
to circle and taste the jasmine.
Here on the shore, Spring is supple and new.
She releases the old,
the dry, brown leaves of the live oak trees
twisting and turning as they slowly reach the ground
for their next life, compost on the forest floor.
As the ancients knew, we cast off the old,
shake off the brittle, whose time is over,
and welcome the supple new.
In the distance, waves lap at the shore.
Here around me, all await the Spring,
green shoots ready to burst forth again.

The Toddler                            

Incongruity, inexplicable reversals and outright lies-
they shock the body.
Human understandings, commonalities
are turned upside-down.
And I’m the toddler, hitting the floor.
Not ready for this! Not ready for this life!
Here at the quiet lagoon,
all is beginning to open eyes and stretch
after winter.
I pull myself upright,
loosening the tight places,
relaxing into “yes.”
A year’s fearful fight-or-flight reverses itself
as the dear Earth welcomes me yet again.

The Art of Doing Nothing                      

“What will you accomplish on your retreat?”
my student asks.
I ponder this question, with a bemused smile.
My goal is to sit still,
to just look,
to open to whatever comes next.
“The art of doing nothing,” the Italians say,
to allow time for my body to calm,
to rest.
“Descanse! (Rest!)” the Spanish posadera advised me once.
I looked at her, puzzled, and said thanks.
It must be a gift of age,
to be able to do nothing, to sit,
waiting on whatever comes next.
Allowing trust to regrow, slowly,
like the first new shoots of Spring.

Incantation                          

Evening, tree frogs chirp and peep in the lagoon,
and there is counterpoint! ocean waves 
endlessly lapping at the distant shore
These two chants wash over me, carry me,
enchant me! Encantada!
This music, an incantation.
I open my door at dusk 
as if to say, “Carry me with you!”
I’m ready.

Focus                            

One evil fires the other. That’s the news on the radio today.
In the warmth of Spring, mists breeze dreamily across the lagoon.
A pair of mallards floats by, so quietly.
At the Sunday gathering, people laugh and sing.
Lenten roses nod, in their cocky way.
A doe watches, curious.
The challenge of this moment in time:
Both states of being are true, and simultaneous.
The sun warms my face as I pen these lines.
We amplify a thing with our focus,
choosing which wolf to feed, 
pouring love into that which we love,
and the other?
Let it go, let it go, let it go.

Annelinde Metzner,
Black Mountain, North Carolina

Black Mountain, North Carolina