The Zingara Project

Tag: Beth Politsch

  • Where Water Runs by Beth Politsch

    In the place
    where water runs,
    magic shivers and hums
    and shakes the trees
    with its incantations.

    The stream is a cauldron
    of leaves, moss and bark.
    It blooms with dark clouds
    of mud when rust-
    colored stones are lifted
    away from the creek bed
    by the toe of your boot.

    But it is your bare feet
    the water longs to touch.
    It asks
    for your fingers
    to try to interfere
    with its persistent flow.

    If you stay long enough,
    this place becomes a voice
    in your head.
    It whispers
    words you’ve heard
    in dreams. It tells birds
    to swoop down
    the brooky path beside you,
    because you are
    and always have been
    the same.

    And maybe
    if you’re very lucky,
    a toad will pause and look
    you in the eye from a bumpy rock.
    Maybe a crane will sweep down
    into your shade
    and almost anoint you
    with her wings.

    It will wait until you’re ready,
    this oracle,
    chanting spells softly,
    listening for your breath,
    offering vines and roots
    for a staircase,
    as you climb down
    from the usual path.

    —

    Beth Politsch is a storyteller, poet and copywriter based in Lawrence, Kansas. She currently creates content for Hyland Software and writes children’s books and poetry in her free time. 

     

  • Geode by Beth Politsch

    The news of your cancer
    began a fracture – a small crack
    we thought could be patched.

    But then it crept outward into the multicolored expanse of time
    and spread gray
    outward from its edges
    like the matte surface of a stone.

    I’ve tried drinking
    to stop my mind
    from trudging
    along that deepening fissure
    that spans from month one of your illness
    to month twenty when you died.

    But I never manage to dull the sharp edges
    of your truths:

    You were too young and too kind
    and so imperfect
    and complicated
    on your surface
    that you were everyone’s favorite
    sister and friend.

    The pain is unstoppable now,
    and in this strange middle phase
    of my life, I have accepted it
    as necessary.

    Now I am walking with purpose
    to break the gray veil
    of your sickness.
    I conjure spikes
    from my heels
    and push them down into the darkness.

    I fall to my knees
    and my hands become pick-axes.
    I claw into the fear until it smashes open,
    exposing its crystal center.

    And this is where I find you:

    In this precious cache
    of mineralized memories
    you sparkle with facets
    both jagged and smooth,
    your light and color

    reflecting
    into all dimensions.

    —

    Beth Politsch is a storyteller, poet and copywriter based in Lawrence, Kansas. She currently creates content for Hyland Software and writes children’s books and poetry in her free time.