Where your #heart is
that’s your #home.
(c)2026
At moon high tide
I run off the end of the silvered dock
Phosphorous confounds inverted eyes
wanting to grasp something more
than air can offer
to sustain this body sinking
into black mollusk mud
and transparent jelly fish.
Jessan Dunn Otis (c) 1985
From the unpublished manuscript MIGRATIONS OF THE HEART
I learned to sit, in silence and solitude, at the end of my street, on Narragansett Bay, looking out and way, when I was young and questioned everything.
When the world was too much with me, I went to that place.
As I celebrated more birthdays I went less and less; and, finally, moved away to begin another part of my life.
Recently, I visited that street, again. I walked to the end of the street and looked out. The place I used to sit is no longer there. Nevertheless, I can bring it all back, as if it was the day before yesterday.
It’s come to my attentions that sitting in silence and solitude is, frequently, questioned, invaded and/or under suspicion in this society. Some folks just have to come up to you, say anything, and break that embrace of peace in which you were sitting. I don’t know why.
The long life lessons I learned as a young girl, sitting for hours sometimes, were to feel, with my entire spirit, to listen with an acutely tuned ear to the patterns of life and nature; and, most important, to stay open and be patient. I did not know then (only learned years later), I would come into the writing life and what lessons I already knew about feeling, listening, staying open, and patience.
I still question everything. I still create and/or find places where I can sit, in silence and solitude, and look out and away.
Where and how did you learn your life lessons?
Stay safe. Take care of yourself and each other.
In gratitude,
~ Jessan
photo credit: Jessan Dunn Otis (c) 2021
Sailing With My Father
Historically a quiet man with an
extraordinarily dry wit
When sailing your quietude
became fierce, sailing on
the edge
The hand with a piece of shrapnel
from a war on the tiller, holding
steady
Face turned windward, eyes
noting obstacles, checking
cat tail direction
The rush of wind caught to
fill the sails
We were happy.
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
~ ~ ~ ~ ~
Dedicated, in Love and Memory, to my father, Mahlon Hendrickson Dunn, Jr., 1914-1992 / Until we meet again.
© Jessan Dunn Otis, August 6, 2018