Lakishma 2
Lakishma 2

I have grown old and tired.
My hair turned white over years of longing and reaching for Lakishma.
I have looked for Lakishma around every corner and beneath every stone.
For moments I have even tasted Lakishma,
when a stranger and I smiled at each other,
the moments you and I talked and sang together,
when I could truly hear and listen to another,
the evenings when we lit wild fires and our gaze followed the flying sparks disappearing in the night sky,
or the moments when I lay in the purple heather and saw clouds passing by and there was not a thought on my mind,
those days when I was present enough to witness the short moment when Lakishma seemed sprinkled over the land only to be gone the next.
Oh, father,
Oh, mother,
Oh, sister,
Oh, brother,
Oh, friend,
all of you, who, like me, are still hoping for Lakishma to stay,
to sweeten the harsh taste of our lives,
Oh daughter,
Oh, son,
Oh, husband
Oh, stranger
walking down the windy road,
the mere tasting of Lakishma will never be good enough.
It will pass,
therefore, if you are as thirsty as I still am,
to be filled with Lakishma
give me your hand.
Let me tell you what I’ve come of late to understand:
Lakishma always is, but
we must first learn and allow to stand in despair and discontent,
the pool of tears beneath our feet,
Hand over our fearful
dreaming
running
doing
and
seeking
for Lakishma outside ourselves.

Find it
-Inside-
Only a breath away,
in the silent space
which has no name,
no face
nor form.

2015

The word ‘Lakishma’ is my own and I use it to describe the elusive state of home/happiness

– –

Poems chosen from an anthology of poems called ‘For Crying Out Loud – Voice of an Exile’, published early 2016.

Bettina

Bettina John von Freyend-Peterseil was born at the end of the 2nd World War in Germany. She exiled herself early on, travelling the world, never able to settle anywhere for long. She now lives in the West of Ireland, where she and her husband built their home, raised their children and tended the land. She has been teaching, writing and in the past 15 years creating her collage work.

The poetry compilation ‘For Crying Out Loud- voice of an exile’ comes at a time when globally people are forced to move on a large scale. Bettina offers a personal account of the mindset of a self imposed exile. She reveals her disconnection and her longing to belong mirroring a world also steeped in separation.

Ouevre

How do you make green?

Poetry by Bettina

In school they threw her out of painting class. She was useless at colours, she says. Her face is wrinkled now. Her frame has shrunk to the size of a...
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Who was I?

Poetry by Bettina

Who was I before I forgot your face? Who was I before I forgot your name? Who was I before? My mother’s face, my father’s face, my brother’s face. Mother...
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There is a time

Poetry by Bettina

There is a time to hang on and a time to let go. Now is the letting go time, the ending time, leaving the shore time, handing over my will...
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Anthology

I’ve tried to run

Poetry by Bettina

I’ve tried to run from suburb to city, to mountains and sea, from father and mother to husband, son and daughter. I hold memories of passing moments like clouds, dissolving,...
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Who was I?

Poetry by Bettina

Who was I before I forgot your face? Who was I before I forgot your name? Who was I before? My mother’s face, my father’s face, my brother’s face. Mother...
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ST Colmans Well – Oughtmama

Poetry by Frank Golden

Is there a code of seeing what is or is not present? This tree by Colman’s well melted into its heartspace. This coil of life in its own soil, making...
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