The Nothingness I Need—variations on a theme
A poem and a question
The Nothingness I Need
Blackbird and warbler layer their songs
along another June dawn. Two mourning
doves, cicada breeze through olive leaves,
waves through the window. No more drawn
shades, no curtains. Yes! Sun, heat, strew
yourselves across me. I want the bright ache-like
yellow of good morning to blind me awake.
Night’s still-cool sheets and your dreaming,
shallow breathing. We are alive again together.
And the world, for the moment, is kind.
To the hungry ghost of needing more, I say
no, no! Give me just a few more minutes
in this delicious boast—the stopped
clock, the empty box, the audacious want
of nothing. 
I seem to be writing about the same things these days—among them, my very real need to slow down; to leave the phone in the drawer; to make my world smaller and my relationships deeper; to find not just satisfaction, but true gratitude for what I already have; to resist the wanting mechanism of "the hungry ghost" that constantly tells us we need more, more, more, or the latest upgrade of the more we bought only a few months ago. Or worse, that we are not enough as we are. So, I turn inward to self or outward to nature as a way to ground myself in what is real and sacred and true. These variations on a theme feel essential to me. And so I write about them. Often. And I wonder sometimes if this is to the detriment of my writing. By exploring the same themes again and again in our poetry, are we dulling our readers' attention and interest? Does it signal a creative rut? Or could it just be that the need to excavate the strata, peel back each layer, helps us fully understand the messages that are buried within and need to come to light? I'd love to hear your thoughts on this. What are the themes that you revisit in your writing? Let me know in the comments.
Wishing you all the nothingness you need today. With Gratitude,
Lovely, lovely poem, Ellen. As for your questions, I don't see the revisitation of themes as a detriment at all, in general, unless the poems get repetitive in really blatant ways. I've read a few collections in the past few weeks and can clearly see the poets navigating the same territories through many poems, even using some pedestrian words over and over, but I never felt as if any of the poems were insignificant or should've been left out of the collection. Each had a fresh take on the theme(s) within each poet's style and voice.
I think it's natural to have a theme or several to revisit as writers of any kind. And they can change and go through cycles, but fundamentally don't we all have our major preoccupations? Is anyone going to stop writing about love or death (grief)? The moon might be a good example for poets — one moon, all the time, has been gazed upon and interpreted by countless poets and will continue to be, I expect. But every moon poem can be particular to the writer and therefore fresh to the reader.
And in particular I think your theme here of being called to rest and slow down and pay attention to what's close at hand is both a timeless and timely one. It helps us readers, too, to do the same if we are feeling called in the same direction, or need reminding of the value of all of that through your words, your lens. I probably need more experience to say this with a lot of conviction, but I think that if and when *I* start to feel bored with what I'm writing, that's a sign of ... something. To perk things up or dig a little more deeply, who knows.
I'm all for excavation!
"We are alive again together. / And the world, for the moment, is kind” and “this delicious boast”—so beautiful.
I like your question and expect I’ll be pondering my own answer for days.