Poetry

Poem: The Crown of a Yurt

Looking out the crown
of a yurt,
I can see the hawk
circling above
and hear the energy
of the howling wolf.

I can see my murky dreams
in the distance become clear.
I can feel the presence of the spirit
hover beside me.

As I look out the crown of a yurt,
I know I’m a part of all things
that are naturally made.
I know I’m not alone,
no matter where I go
or who I’ve been.

I can feel the soothing drumbeat
surround me,
the blueness of the Navajo sky,
the whispering winds of my ancestors
that gently guide me.

Looking out the crown of a yurt,
I can feel my life change and flow.
I can see my body gracefully age
with wrinkled dark skin
and the beauty of ancient wisdom.

©️Mft

Freelance writer, poet, yogi and photographer from Santa Barbara, California. I write and take pictures about a variety of topics, from my early childhood in Philadelphia, to my years as a family therapist, and finally to my soul-searching years in California. The things that move me may have a humorous or serious content or both. Either way, I hope my poetry, pictures and stories resonate with you.

30 comments on “Poem: The Crown of a Yurt

  1. Wonderful title, image, and content. I’d love to be there.

  2. Lovely delivery, Mark, but I hope that’s a window!

  3. Oh Wow, loved this Mark. Relaxing, spiritual… Awesome!

  4. I feel a deep affinity with this poem, Mark. Opening our inner eyes in peace we
    can feel and see much of the beauty you write about.
    ” I know I’m a part of all things
    that are naturally made.”

    Miriam

  5. wonderfully words of ethnic roots!

  6. Lovely piece and sure enlightening memories!

  7. Guardando oltre la corona
    di una yurta,
    Posso vedere il falco
    girare sopra
    e sentire l’energia
    del lupo che ulula.

    Riesco a vedere i miei sogni oscuri
    in lontananza diventano chiari.
    Posso sentire la presenza dello spirito
    aleggiare accanto a me.

    Mentre guardo fuori la corona di una yurta,
    so di far parte di tutte le cose
    che sono in natura.
    So di non essere solo,
    non importa dove vado
    o chi sono stato.

    Sento il piacevole rullo di tamburi
    circondarmi,
    l’azzurro del cielo Navajo,
    i venti sussurranti dei miei antenati
    che mi guidano dolcemente.

    Guardando fuori la corona di una yurta,
    Posso sentire la mia vita cambiare e fluire.
    Posso vedere il mio corpo invecchiare con grazia
    la mia pelle scura rugosa
    e la bellezza dell’antica saggezza.

    *

    Dear Mark, I read your fascinating poem and translated it into Italian as you can see above. I liked it so much that I decided to propose it on my blog in a weekly column entitled “Stolen Jewels” next December 22nd. Congratulations and best regards from Italy

  8. Pingback: Gioielli Rubati 16/17: Gabriella Montanari – Paola Renzetti – Luca “Yok” Parenti – Emilio Capaccio – Mark Tulin – Francesco Marotta – Antonio Devicienti – Maria Allo – Marnie Walsh. | almerighi

  9. Pingback: Gioielli Rubati 16/17: Gabriella Montanari – Paola Renzetti – Luca “Yok” Parenti – Emilio Capaccio – Mark Tulin – Francesco Marotta – Maria Allo – Marnie Walsh. | almerighi

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