A PSALeM 40 Days At The Well…

Posted byMAHism2025Posted inmahism2023Tags:, ,

It hit the floor
And stood tall in quiet relief
Like only coarse things can 

You must be careful touching that which
Replicates itself a million times over
That which springs. Back.
That which is never too good
to scrub the floors
with steel wool accusations

All of the pulling
Pulling
Pulling
When all it ever needed was a gentle push

It would have given you what you asked for

You did not need to reach; to take

This business cannot be minded
Or mined
By anyone except whom the grower allows

I am telling you…
(Mind these words)
It. Is. Never. Too. Good. To. Scrub. The. Floors.
To come down to the bottom
When your stomach rumbles
And you look for a cold place to lay your head
Only to realize…
The middle spaces are rarely
Cold. Enough.

Comes down to meet you at your low
To show you high ways

I did not know. I am me.
I did not know. Who I was. 
Two of the same – in a different space and time

So, when the self proclaimed specialist of eggs, hormones and the like told me, “poets are dead”…

She scared me instead of inspiring me

And I was shocked at what this self proclaimed woman could birth from her mouth 

And I was betrayed
And I was quieted 
And then. I was mad.
And then. I was moved. 
In laboring anticipation
To scrub that damn floor
Better’n she ever could –
A self righteous rebellion
Will have you righting even the left turns
Making circles in the middle of nowhere
Ya know…hard-driven lessons that teach
Us the way back home

So let me learn ya this –
Do not touch my hair
In an effort to quiet my pin
Do not touch my eyes or my ears
To see how I watch and hear God
Do not touch my womb
To see who grows in there

Do not touch my mouth with your unwashed hands

I am no longer afraid of bottom places
For, we are fertile everywhere, every here, every there 
And next time
Next time
Next time
The high ways will stay in their place

I left behind all sorts of wet apologies in the bucket.
Borrow someone else’s mop.
You shall scrub your own floors.

The poets are alive. And well. And writing in the waiting. With a head full of fertile new growth. Standing tall in quiet relief. Figuring out how to clean the ceiling. 


	


	

			

	

		
			Published by MAHism2025		
	

	

		Oftentimes, I am asked the origin and/or meaning of my name.  Shimah is a derivative of the name Shammah; Hebrew-Arabic in origin, with a biblical reference to Jehovah Shammah meaning 'God is present'.  It is pronounced with the accent on the second syllable and the only one who shortens it on a consistent basis is my mother.  I think I've been looking for ways to ground myself since birth - love grounds me, as does the written word.  And so, here we are!  Please explore the menu on the homepage; here you will find the different areas in which I express myself through script.  Be it impromptu poetry, editing work, my ever-growing children's literature series, or the socially conscious (yet personally knotted) blog, it all siphons into creating and expression by way of the written word. I refer to myself as the Maternal Head of a beautiful little girl who lovingly just calls me mommy.  If you've gotten through this lengthy bio then I will assume you've got time today... so, please leave me a note - the literates are in need of inspiration and constructive feedback from time to time.  Take care of your soul and I'll see ya'll 'round the way.		
	



	



	



			

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