Die Reue

Mein Gedicht zum Buß- und Bettag.

Die Reue

Die Reue gestalten sich als kleine Wolken,
die vor der Sonne ziehen,
und Schatten werfen,
die uns die Orientierungspunkten auf dem Landschaft der Zeit schenken.
Wenn wir sie auf unserer Zunge legen könnten,
wurde sie ein Nachgeschmack hinterlassen,
dass bitter fortbesteht.
Normalerweise finden wir sie nur mit dem Rückblick,
dort wo wir immer Gewissheit finden.
Ein Leben ohne Reue ist perfekt,
und ein Leben volle Reue vergeblich.
Als wir Reue in ein kleines Fläschchen tun könnten,
dann sollten wir immer eine kleine Prise auf den Brei des Lebens hinzufügen.
Zu wenig wäre fade,
zu viel wäre den Brei verderben,
und genau die richtige Menge
wäre das Gewürz des Fortschritts.

Urheberrecht © Quirina Roode-Gutzmer 2012.

Korrektur gelesen von Martin Dirk Stein.

Regret

On 21 November 2012 Saxony celebrated a public holiday called Buß- und Bettag, which is not celebrated anywhere else in Germany. It is a Christian tradition where one spends the day reflecting on one’s regrets, pray about it and then orientate oneself to the future. I thought this was a good idea regardless of which religion one associates oneself with. For me praying takes the form of meditation in the realm of Buddhist philosophy. From my contemplation a little poem arose:

Regret

Regret takes the shape of little clouds
that move in front of the sun,
casting shadows,
giving us bearings in the landscape of time.
If we could place it on our tongues,
it would leave an aftertaste,
a bitter one that lingers.
Usually we are only able to find it with hindsight,
there where we always find certainty.
A life without it is perfect,
a life full of it is futile.
If regret could be put in a little vial,
a little pinch of it
should always be added to the broth of life.
Too little would be bland,
too much would be to spoil the broth,
and just the right amount
would be seasoned.

Copyright © Quirina Roode-Gutzmer 2012.

Leaves

“Leaves” © Peter Wilkin 2012.

 

The trees have undressed,
the emerald of their leaves
softly on the horizon left,
while their russet robes lie crisp below …
a carpet, for us to tread on, to near them,
to watch their branches tendril in inky sky
by light of silver sickle moon.

© Quirina Roode-Gutzmer 2012.

 

 

Special thanks go to Peter Wilkin for giving me kind permission to publish on my blog—his exquisite image “Leaves”—which inspired me to write the accompanying poem.

Peter’s photography art exhibits the ethereal, the magical, the psychedelic, the metaphysical, and human perception. It is well worthwhile to pay his gallery a visit here.

Mindful Writing Day

My small-stone contribution to Mindful Writing Day hosted by Fiona Robyn on her blog Writing Our Way Home:

My eyes pause on a quilt stitched from different greens,
rolling on hills in the distance,
stretching to another land with another language.

Then, I gently bring my gaze back to the screen,
plumb my mind for words,
and stitch them together on the keyboard.