Inside my house,
Inside my mind
the lights are on.
The books shift, wanting to be read.
Night lightning in Phoenix. © Quinn McDonald, 2016. All rights reserved.
My to-do list stretches, reaching for another ream of paper.
My phone buzzes, chirps, and rattles with impatience.
My cat sinks his claws into my thigh, hungry for attention.
Dear God, it’s like being nibbled to death by ducks.
All this quiet, so I can work.
I push the heavy slider wide,
and step onto the night balcony.
The light rail leaves a station, clanging on its way.
Cars honk, people laughing, cursing, singing, 14 floors below.
Lights shimmer, blink and fuss, directing traffic,
calling for attention.
On the night balcony
all that noise is someone else’s
And I can fade into the stillness,
and be gone.
—Quinn McDonald is a practitioner of poetic healing.
My artwork is becoming more and more about poetry. I’ve always loved words in art, probably the best reason I love making collage.
For a project in my poetic medicine certification, I am exploring the idea of silence, and how we use it to communicate, to heal, to express our deepest pain. I created a dozen alcohol-ink abstract landscapes, and printed phrases of my classmates poetry onto the landscapes. The snippets combine to form a poem of their own, about the power of silence.Samples are below, but not in order.
Next week, when we gather, I’m going to ask each person to read their poetry snippet, in an order I chose to create a new poem, with a dozen contributors. I’m hoping they’ll not only cooperate, but be pleased with the visual combining with the spoken word.
This landscape is an image from my trip to Second Mesa, on the Hopi reservation, where the night sky is filled with stars.
I’m enjoying the break in serious study for this project. I hope it goes over well.
—Quinn McDonald is a writer, a writing trainer, and studying to become a poetic medicine practitioner.