Tag Archives: writing

A Story About Fireflies

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A Story About Fireflies

The two men walked farther and farther ahead of us, while you and I trolled up that newly black-topped hill, talking of many things in that hot, Vermont early evening.

From time to time we became aware that if we wandered too far left or right as we slowly zigzagged up that hill, the sky becoming darker, that we would be in jeopardy of stumbling over the high edges of that pitch black macadam into the low growth and bushes left and right.

Just at a certain moment, when the sun had barely disappeared but still cast its last light into the coming night, we stopped.  On both sides of that road those dark bushes and low growth exploded with the flickers of thousands of fireflies.

It was like this – rising macadam heat, two voices in the distance, fading light and being surrounded by fireflies, fireflies, fireflies.

fireflies

The only way to change the world is to change the story.

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The only way to change the world is to change the story.

eggs

Eggs

The first time I read this sentence I read it, thought I understood it and read on.  That was some time ago.

The next time I read this sentence some time had passed, a few life-changing events had occurred and, while I was the same person, I wasn’t the same person and I began to understand a bit more.

The most recent time I read this sentence I stopped reading and breathed in the spirit of this sentence, as if it was a sweet-scented and familiar perfume or food or light.

The world was still the world, the sentence was still the same sentence; and, yet, everything was changed.

What’s your story?

Poetry as Narrative

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THE RISK OF REAL GROUND

 

Stepping into air the woman falls

momentarily catching hair and nails

as on a wing or cliff or webs

 

First this, then that

 

Falling is water washing flesh away

it changes everything

begin to learn, again

 

Earth gives up pieces of itself so slowly

breathing passes through ash or oak or bone

amber perfume fills a room

 

A hand touches and moves away

you meet yourself

passing by a shattered glass

 

Say you understand, say you say

stand up, open your mouth

what are you standing on.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

– for Todd Bartel, Joanna Barth, Miguel Calderon, Sean Coel, Jemima Farwell, Lael Jacobs,

Elizabeth Jackson Johnston, Blane Kieng, John McLaughlin, Anna Regnery, Charis SanAntonio,

and Jodi Schwartz

(c) 1986 Jessan Dunn (DeCredico) Otis

All We Are Are Our Stories

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All We Are Are Our Stories

When you look at a person,...

I’ve been told that the first human sound I ever heard was, most likely, laughter; as my mother looked over the drape, surrounded by a bevy of student nurses, and asked, “Over hand or feather stitch?” as Dr. Vorsick repaired her episiotomy.

This is where my story began.  Since then, looking back, there’s no way I could have predicted nor anticipated the journey from then to now – just as well, I suspect.

All posts are my own, unless I invite someone to share their stories – with the exception, of course, of “Comments”.  All credit where credit is due will be made.

There is only one primary and permanent guideline:  play nice with the other children.  This site/blog is open to all and any comments, opinions, and points of view.  However, if what you write is inflammatory, bigoted, narrow-minded and/or hateful, I will delete it.

That rather unpleasant matter aside, I look forward to telling stories, sharing stories, listening to stories, and learning more as we all journey through this thing called Life.

Welcome!

What say you, please?

~ Jessan