I’ve long been fascinated with the role and myth of The Storyteller…
As a storyteller myself, I am always looking for the perfect words, the perfect formulations, in hopes of capturing the imagination and tugging at all the warmest places in the heart. Like all pursuits, there is really no final destination, but rather, constant, diligent and impassioned work, and the awareness that there is really no ultimate and perfect story to be told: there are, instead, the many stories that can and do tell, in infinite variations, along the way in this beautiful journey of life and communion.
With this poem, I simply want to express what it is I am trying to do as a storyteller, as I imagine the recipient on the other end, as we both reach out in search of connection.
THE STORYTELLER
I would like to tell you
a story
on a cool, rainy night
as you sit inside,
on your love-worn sofa,
covered in warm blankets
drinking hot, aromatic tea
from your favourite mug.
To tell you it’s going to
be okay.
Maybe there’s an old painting
on a wood-panelled wall
that has seeped into
the curves and contours
of your body
by now,
whispering its familiar
hushed tales
in rich, blurred colours
suffused with
fiery light.
This is your night.
You are safe,
you are protected
this is for you,
to fall into
and snuggle up against.
Your dreams get reclaimed
here,
your future still waiting
in embrace.
This is for all
your old heartaches,
late-night cries
and the visions of
sought-after ever-afters
you never quite
shook out.
Above all, this is so you
can melt like cinnamon
into worlds
you’ve conjured before,
and will recognize
here again,
coming back for you
after all these years,
on the back of
softest wings.
———
This poem was published on Women’s Spiritual Poetry!