Oh how fortunate am I
To behold
All the riches of your soul
And oh how fortunate am I
That you see
All the riches within me
– Lucy Schwartz
note: I do not own the photograph included in this post
Growing Hope
Growing hope
Is a brave thing to do
In a world where fragile things aren’t always cared for
I’ll take care of you
– Poem & drawings by Lucy Schwartz
The Child
I don’t have a name yet
I am only a thought traveling through space
I’ll be born on the night of a terrible storm
Welcomed into the world with a riot of rolling thunder and flashing haywire lights
I’ll have blue eyes
And a penchant for dancing
My father will weep the first time he holds me
It’s the only time I’ll see him cry in my life
My mother will lift me up,
And look at me, curiously,
But she won’t cry
I wish she would.
I don’t have a name yet
I am only a thought traveling through space
– A poem by Lucy Schwartz
Mrs. Harold Strikes Back
“Darling, don’t test me
I’m not afraid of flames
I invented fire.”
Mrs. Harold proceeds to light a match, then drops it – as if it were nothing, as if it were not the beginning of the end,
She walks away, with a smile on her face, and an extra pep in her step,
And lets the world behind her burn.
-Lucy Schwartz
The Twister
My dearest Roan,
Don’t be afraid.
Toss up the winds!
Let them roar!
Welcome the twister who knocks at your door.
Now is not the time to stand firm and unmoving,
Like an old, decaying castle, bombed after battle, with holes in your side,
Crumbling apart but refusing to fall,
Now is a time to let go
To jump into uncertainty
There’s no stopping the winds of change
Once they’ve decided to blow down your house
See,
Here they come now,
Ever closer,
The uninvited guests
Barreling towards you at fantastic speed
Howling like a pack of wild dogs
So let them come
Allow yourself to be swept away
With arms open
Into the wind
Whatever it holds
Sometimes, it’s the only way to fly.
– Lucy Schwartz
The Deer
I found her in the forest
Barely alive
A deer
Panting uneasily
Lying on the ground
Broken
Her eyes gentle and kind
And pained
On the back of her neck, there was a wound
A deep cut
I knelt down beside her
And carefully – gingerly – not knowing how she would respond –
Reached out, and stroked her brown and white speckled fur
She sighed gratefully
There was a sort of melody to the sound
Beautiful and sweet
I stayed with her until the stars came out
Listening to the beat of her heart and the pace of her breath
Praying that they both kept on
I fell asleep in the grass beside her, curled up just like she
With the wind wrapped around us as our blanket
In my dreams I was with her too
I dreamt I carried her to a river
An aquamarine river
And in its healing waters
I soothed her heart
And mended her skin
And shaped and re-shaped her form
Until she was whole again
Until she could breathe
When I awoke the next morning
Blinking, taking in the morning light,
I found –
That she was gone.
I felt a pang of fear, then sadness, then regret for having closed my eyes
I should have stayed awake
I should have protected her
I looked all around me
Desperately
I searched the nearby trees
I called for her as I walked
But in all my desperate seeking
I could not find her
How could it be?
Had she passed in the night?
Had her body simply turned to dust and evaporated in the wind?
Or –
How dreadful
How unbearable
Had she been scooped up in sharp jaws
Underneath the dark and unforgiving cloak of night
And devoured by another larger, stronger animal?
Even the thought of it was too cruel
But what if –
A thought came to me excitedly
bouncing all the way from the synapses in my brain to the pulse of my heart
What if she had gained back her strength?
What if she had healed?
What if she had opened her eyes in the morning, renewed in spirit, and lifted herself up onto steady feet?
And left to re-join her herd?
As I wondered and hoped, I felt another pang of hurt
This time, a physical kind
Coming from the back of my neck
I reached back and felt the spot with my hand,
How strange –
There was a cut there
A wound
A scab
It must have been an old injury because it felt like it was almost ingrained in the skin
But I had never known it to exist
Until – now
And as I touched the old wound, I somehow knew it was in the process of healing
And so was I
– Lucy Schwartz
The Mystery
The Grey Building
Marble archways set against a blue, painted, sky,
Throngs of people scuttling like spiders,
The brash sound of the work bells chiming,
Time ticks on, restlessly,
As we, the worker bees, drive ourselves into a frenzy,
Shoving each other, shouting hysterics, racing against one another to get to the top of the many-tiered edifice,
The grey building,
Rising ominously into the sky like a giant concrete web
All this bad intent
And what for?
Are we the spider?
Or the bugs?
Trapped.
I never knew.
It was a trap.
– Lucy Schwartz
The Golden Days
You should have seen it then
Gold!
Sparkling in the light
Like the sun dazzling dizzy upon the sea
California
Hot and hopeful
In the days of the rush
Men digging up fortunes
Beneath the brush
All the treasures of the earth
Till now untouched
The kind of dreams you thought you’d never taste
But you always hoped would be so sweet
Two teenage boys
Jerry and Jim
Hopping the freight trains
Like regular jumping jacks
Laughter rolling out of their pockets and ripening into orange trees in the last hours of daylight
And under its leaves, a bit of rest and shade
Two friends
Best of friends
Partners in play
Once, and forever,
(Living) in the golden days
-Lucy Schwartz
The confession
For what it’s worth, my word, my truth, is such that-
You may think me bold to speak –
But I must speak as bold as air
For I can hardly breathe
To hold the key to your affection would delight me to no end
My heart can only withstand the howling winds for so long
Before it break or bend
So tell me which way the wind doth blow
North, west, south, or east?
And if the wind is wanting
Will it find its way to me?
– Lucy Schwartz
p.s. I was inspired to write this poem after watching the film “Far From The Madding Crowd”.
Golden Rabbit & The Horseman 
