Melissa Huff feeds her poetry from the mystery of the natural world and the ways in which body, nature and spirit intertwine. She won awards in 2019 and 2020 in the BlackBerry Peach Prizes for Poetry: Spoken and Heard. Publishing credits include Gyroscope Review, Blue Heron Review, Persimmon Tree, The Road Not Taken andSnapdragon: A Journal of Art and Healing. Melissa very much appreciates her Chicago-based workshop group - the Plumb Line Poets.
Wakening
“There’s a crack in everything. That’s how the light gets in” Leonard Cohen
Her spirit lies fallow—
a barren plot of parched ground,
an abandoned lot hemmed in by walls
that feed her darkness. In the shadows
a flute begins to play. Notes flicker and fade
like fragments of ancient music—familiar,
though she’s never heard it before.
She senses movement,
a shift in the flow of air,
a trail of warmth along her wounds.
The music strengthens, seeps
into inner crevices, teases out
strands of her forgotten song.
Notes shape themselves
into droplets of water, form a trickle,
grow into rivulets that run
through thirsty cracks. They find
those seeds of wholeness hidden within,
soften them until they split,
sending green shoots skyward.
Her spirit leafs out,
breathing in the light.
— Melissa Huff
Published May 2021 by Blue Heron Review.
This poem was written in response to a painting by Tania Blanco, “Healer of the Soul”.
Lesson in Aging
I spread their colors
across the counter—tulips
in hues of lemon, lilac,
plum and persimmon—
then scoop them up,
slake their thirst, let them
chatter to each other.
They tilt their heads, laugh
from their bellies, begin
to open themselves to life.
As they age, they widen
their scope, become more
generous, acquire a graceful
drape. Their edges begin
to darken, turn inward
until, one by one, each
petal loosens its hold,
gives in to gravity,
leaving—strewn
across my counter—
curled flakes of color,
still laughing.
— Melissa Huff
First published in Fall 2021 in Gyroscope Review