A poem about the inner source of music.
“Hushed,” by Thomas Hitoshi Pruiksma
THE SAFETY OF EDGES
Marrowstone Press, Seattle
author, poet, teacher, and performer
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A poem about the inner source of music.
HUSHED
In the library the young girl
her mother checking email
sang a little song she was
making in the moment it wasn’t
being sung for her mother
or herself it wasn’t being sung
for anyone around her it was only
being sung for the sake
of being sung her heart and mouth
moving in the movement of the song
and I knew who she was
beyond what I knew she was me
as a child singing to be singing
and I knew that her mother
in the library would stop her
would tell her to be quiet
how could she not but oh
for the singing that seeks
no applause and is ours
even in the silence
“Hushed,” by Thomas Hitoshi Pruiksma
THE SAFETY OF EDGES
Marrowstone Press, Seattle
A poem about true strength: “Tough Does Not Beat Tender,” from the 12th century Tamil woman, poet, and saint Avvaiyar and her book Nalvazhi, “The Right Road.”
Tough does not beat tender. Arrows
Pierce elephants, not cotton.
Rods of iron
Cannot crack stone, but a tree’s green roots
Split rocks.
Nalvazhi 33, “Vettanavai methanavai vellavam.”
Translated from the Tamil by Thomas Hitoshi Pruiksma
GIVE, EAT, AND LIFE: POEMS OF AVVAIYAR
Red Hen Press, Los Angeles
A poem about meeting the music of each moment.
IMPROVISATION
only happens
when it happens
though years may have passed
so what happens
might happen
the musician who gets it right
gets it right
right now
don’t wait
when it happens
happen
“Improvisation,” by Thomas Hitoshi Pruiksma
THE SAFETY OF EDGES
Marrowstone Press, Seattle
A poem about size and true strength by the 12th century Tamil woman, poet, and saint Avvaiyar. From her collection, “The Word that Endures.”
Magnolias have large petals; honeysuckles, a sweet fragrance.
Don’t judge a man small by his body.
The sea is vast
Yet cannot clean hands. Beside it, the little spring
Yields sweet water.
Moothurai 12, “Madal perithu thazhai.”
Translated from the Tamil by Thomas Hitoshi Pruiksma
GIVE, EAT, AND LIFE: POEMS OF AVVAIYAR
Red Hen Press, Los Angeles
A poem about gratitude and the passage of time.
POCKET WATCH
Each day when I remember
I wind the old watch
hanging from its stand
where it watches my desk
you told me you liked it
Grandpa remembered
take it you should have it
Lloyd fixed it last year
it runs well enough for its age
and it does
it stands
at the edge of my mornings
running and still
if I listen
I can hear
what he told me
about life
time passes
faster than you think
remembering his voice
I take the old watch
wind it renew it set it
on its stand
and dare
to enjoy the time
that I have that I know
won’t last forever
“Pocket Watch,” by Thomas Hitoshi Pruiksma
THE SAFETY OF EDGES
Marrowstone Press, Seattle