Sohbet – The Sharp Edge of Shears

Garden at twilight.

Everything pruned back
cleared out.
No barren wasteland.
There’s fecundity
in this emptiness.

Seemingly harsh cuts
make room to grow.

in a space
of gratitude
for the sharp edge
of shears.

7 thoughts on “Sohbet – The Sharp Edge of Shears

  1. Dear Valerie,

    Your poem is more polished than this. And spare, in that every word counts way, which is almost always good, especially because it fits the subject matter. This actually turned out ok, though more prosaic than yours. Still, there’s the added layer of echoing and reply. Hey, is it technically possible for me to write 2 separate replies at once? (One for this comment and one for the sohbet.)

    xo jyanti

    New employment.

    Hacks at every minute.

    6 a.m. alarm
    asks more effectively
    than all the counsellors
    what’s serving me well?
    who returns my love capably?
    how do I take more care
    of myself?

    New employment
    doesn’t solve everything.
    Sharp shadows
    harsh light switched on before dawn.
    Stack dreams
    for future fires.
    The cutting edge and brute force
    of will
    an unexpected essence
    of the grain.


    1. Great poem jyanti! A very picturesque way of saying: I’m way too busy for this crap! It’s amazing what will inspire us to take shears to the deadwood in our lives.

      And sure, you can do separate replies – just finish one thought, click “post comment” then fill in the “leave a reply” box and post again.


  2. …and I don’t see any reason why I can’t reply to my own poem. Came across this one by Rumi, that I think is in the same vein:

    There is a shredding that is really a healing,
    that makes you more alive.

    A lion holds you in his arms.
    Fingers rake the fretbridge for music.

    I was talking to a friend tonight again about the idea of clearing out, making room, creating space for something else to come. This Rumi poem touches on how painful that can be, but how neccessary…and beautiful.


  3. walking the sharp edge of shears
    foot in front of foot
    slow and sure
    skimming the edge
    facing the risk
    of a wound, a cut, a slice
    to find the delicate balance


    1. The line is thin and steely blue
      You deviate not left nor right
      Damned if you don’t, damned if you do
      You hold your bearing proud, upright
      A razor’s stroll you did not choose
      Yet hold the center in your sight
      There’s no such thing as steel toed shoe
      Protection from emotion’s fight.


  4. Resting in a space of gratitude
    between the periods of frenzy
    and anticipation
    I can sigh with relief
    and contentment
    my shoulders relax
    I can sit with myself


  5. Harvester
    Once a scythe
    Now mechanical blades,
    love unchanged.
    The reel’s embrace
    draws stalk and head
    into the maw
    to be shred.
    A field of death,
    a bin of life,
    await cold touch,
    becomes a lunch.
    Renewal, regrowth,
    recompense, regreen
    is far distant and
    bear not the joy,
    bear not the thrill,
    bear not sweet love
    of the slaying.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s