Marianne Peel
Climbing Tian Ti Mountain
The Chinese believe that showing all at once,
revealing all in a swoop of sensation,
is simply obscene.
Instead, breath by breath,
a new sight at each curve, each turn.
Always more to reveal.
One rung
from the top of the mountain,
incense burns.
I feel it curl around my face,
beneath my fingernails,
into the pores of my mountain climbing skin.
I have ascended to the temple,
knowing that the top of a mountain
is the only soulful place for worship.
An intermittent gong.
Apples and peaches on the offering table.
Marigolds along the path.
A phoenix carved into the sky
Coexisting with the dragon.
There is no yearning here, no hesitancy.
Just the permeating incense
and feeling my rightful place
in the family of all beings . . .
Meditation in Yu Gardens, Shanghai
The Chinese, masters of curiosity,
show the head of the dragon, but not the tail.
Here the four elements of a Chinese Garden
surround you, envelop you, in one tender alcove at a time.
Greenery, rocks, architecture, and water
flowing in a yin yang harmony, balancing space and time.
I slow down here, move my feet deliberately,
grace my Western self through this sacred space.
I keep my voice whisper close, not wanting to startle.
Even the limestone rocks seem to breathe.
One tiger lily on this canvas.
A small fire between earth and sky.
Two mandarin ducks mated for life
move among the carp.
Plants, rocks, and water
lick the scenery beyond this space.
One sculpture invites me to massage my eyes.
Lures me to see her in the silence.
There is a woman hidden within this rock,
and she is turning away from me.
She offers her hand,
luring me back into Yu Gardens.
There is no hurry here, ever,
and I take her hand and seek
one more tiger lily,
one more fire for my eyes.
Marianne Peel is a poet and a flute-playing vocalist, learning to play ukulele, who is raising four daughters. She shares her life with her partner, Scott, whom she met in Istanbul while studying in Turkey. Marianne taught teachers in Guizhou Province, China, for three summers, and she also toured several provinces in China with the Valpraiso Symphony, playing both flute and piccolo, in January of 2016. Recently, Marianne was invited to participate in Marge Piercy’s Juried Intensive Poetry Workshop in June 2016. This fall, she journeyed to Georgia O’Keefe’s Ghost Ranch in New Mexico, where she took part in an amazing Narrative Poetry Writing Seminar. Marianne also received Fulbright-Hays Awards to Nepal and Turkey. She taught English at middle and high school for 32 years. She is now retired, doing Field Instructor work at Michigan State University. In addition, Marianne has been published in Muddy River Review; Silver Birch Press; Persephone’s Daughters; Encodings: A Feminist Literary Journal; Write to Heal; Writing for Our Lives: Our Bodies—Hurts, Hungers, Healing; Mother Voices; Metropolitan Woman Magazine; Ophelia’s Mom; Jellyfish Whispers; Remembered Arts Journal; Gravel, among others.
Climbing Tian Ti Mountain
The Chinese believe that showing all at once,
revealing all in a swoop of sensation,
is simply obscene.
Instead, breath by breath,
a new sight at each curve, each turn.
Always more to reveal.
One rung
from the top of the mountain,
incense burns.
I feel it curl around my face,
beneath my fingernails,
into the pores of my mountain climbing skin.
I have ascended to the temple,
knowing that the top of a mountain
is the only soulful place for worship.
An intermittent gong.
Apples and peaches on the offering table.
Marigolds along the path.
A phoenix carved into the sky
Coexisting with the dragon.
There is no yearning here, no hesitancy.
Just the permeating incense
and feeling my rightful place
in the family of all beings . . .
Meditation in Yu Gardens, Shanghai
The Chinese, masters of curiosity,
show the head of the dragon, but not the tail.
Here the four elements of a Chinese Garden
surround you, envelop you, in one tender alcove at a time.
Greenery, rocks, architecture, and water
flowing in a yin yang harmony, balancing space and time.
I slow down here, move my feet deliberately,
grace my Western self through this sacred space.
I keep my voice whisper close, not wanting to startle.
Even the limestone rocks seem to breathe.
One tiger lily on this canvas.
A small fire between earth and sky.
Two mandarin ducks mated for life
move among the carp.
Plants, rocks, and water
lick the scenery beyond this space.
One sculpture invites me to massage my eyes.
Lures me to see her in the silence.
There is a woman hidden within this rock,
and she is turning away from me.
She offers her hand,
luring me back into Yu Gardens.
There is no hurry here, ever,
and I take her hand and seek
one more tiger lily,
one more fire for my eyes.
Marianne Peel is a poet and a flute-playing vocalist, learning to play ukulele, who is raising four daughters. She shares her life with her partner, Scott, whom she met in Istanbul while studying in Turkey. Marianne taught teachers in Guizhou Province, China, for three summers, and she also toured several provinces in China with the Valpraiso Symphony, playing both flute and piccolo, in January of 2016. Recently, Marianne was invited to participate in Marge Piercy’s Juried Intensive Poetry Workshop in June 2016. This fall, she journeyed to Georgia O’Keefe’s Ghost Ranch in New Mexico, where she took part in an amazing Narrative Poetry Writing Seminar. Marianne also received Fulbright-Hays Awards to Nepal and Turkey. She taught English at middle and high school for 32 years. She is now retired, doing Field Instructor work at Michigan State University. In addition, Marianne has been published in Muddy River Review; Silver Birch Press; Persephone’s Daughters; Encodings: A Feminist Literary Journal; Write to Heal; Writing for Our Lives: Our Bodies—Hurts, Hungers, Healing; Mother Voices; Metropolitan Woman Magazine; Ophelia’s Mom; Jellyfish Whispers; Remembered Arts Journal; Gravel, among others.