Amy Wray Irish

Returning to Indiana
(with gratitude to D. B)
by Amy Wray Irish

Kindness has its own cadence,
Its own voice. Unhurried. Lilting.
A murmur. Lifting and resting.
Lifting and settling. Slow waters
Elevating the everyday words.

“Do you need anything?” rises.
Stirs the tops of trees. Sings.
Gentle as an eddy. Soft as a cat’s paw.
“There you go.” thrums. Remains steady.
A connection.
A deep, low frequency.

All as soothing as the oars
In rhythm. Dipped and pulled.
Dipped and filled. A heartbeat.
A haven. An offer of sanctuary.
For all of us who seek. For all.

Becky Miller

July 8, 2018

I am queen of the fire! I loved the opportunity to contribute in a practical way to the SwampFire Retreat. It is always an honor to be trusted, as I am here.

Seeing familiar faces, people returning, coming together to share in the peace of this space, it always fills me with such calm. I am rejuvenated and relaxed.

I love the presence of new people (I mean you, Amy), the embrace of a face and person who can share in this space so magically created years ago by Dawn and MC. And so, I am grateful. I am refreshed. I am encouraged. I look forward to pursuing ideas, words and friendships.

And, as always, I can’t wait for next year!

To all before and any in the future: “Never forget to be yourself.”

Always,
Becky Miller

Marcy Bauman

July 2018

Thank you for everybody! Thank you for three days when I am a writer.

Marcy

Mey Hasbrook

Down deep
in the circle
—warm embrace
of words—
burning logs
snap nearby.

We are held
in friendship
—this makeshift
shelter
of expectant
listening.

I am grateful
for the gift of
presence
and the field
alight with
fireflies.

Mey Hasbrook femestiza.com

Joyce Meier

July 2018

Late-night conversations about art, acceptance, and family. Some singing. Listening—as people share their work: watching the stars and the occasional two-seater plane skimming the tops of nearby fields. Laughter, and tears. The smell of the campfire, the taste of gritty baked sweet potatoes. So happy to be here, in this warm company!

Thank you again to Mary Catherine, Dawn,
and Steve for hosting.
You all make my summer so special.
Joyce

Jennifer Repka

SwampFire—7 July 2018

Here I am again! I have been talking about this retreat to family, friends, and anyone willing, and finally here I am! I was afraid that my lack of continuation of my story would be deemed lazy, but that is a common worry. I am so happy to be among such an understanding and supportive group!

 

Nothing is good without practice! Keep creating!
—Jennifer Repka

Marian Plant

July 7, 2018

Seven years ago I sat in the circles of SwampFire for the first time. I felt awkward. Sleeping arrangements were unconventional to me. “Just find a place on the floor and I’ll help you inflate the air mattress,” MC said. I stood next to the overflowing kitchen table and saw no real “place,” let alone a place with any pseudoprivacy. But we stretched out on the flat air mattress, me pushing purses and backpacks and who knew what out of the way. It was 100+ degrees during the day and probably 99º that night. But at the end of the weekend I was hooked. Whether I ever got the nerve to read something or not, I was hooked. I still am. And now, at last, I am fully relaxed.
Marian R. Plant

Dawn Burns

July 2018

Each year before I write in this journal, I first write what I want to say in another private journal, craft my words into how I want them to appear not only to myself but also to others, and maybe even especially to others. Not this year. This year I abandon what I started to craft and just write raw and fresh, and simply here.
SwampFire. I love this place and these people, every year the mix a little different, and every year the mix just right! This year a friend—Amy—from my MFA days a part of it all. And the movement of life (the movement of swamp, the movement of fire) a beautiful thing to swim within.

Grateful for these days, for restoration and reunion.
Until next year,
Dawn

Mary Catherine Harper

Where We Are, What We Are

It’s the place where we ask time
to stop and listen to what we
seek to become, and so it does.

Where the space we call sky
falls to earth, flares into art,
gifts us with its bright embers.

Where each writer’s voice
grows so tall it can be seen
towering above the trees.

Where we learn to trust
our hands as they chisel out
the words that make us.

Mary Catherine

Dawn Comer

So GladJuly 16, 2017

I am so glad for SwampFire!
For ten years — TEN! — of gatherings.
These gifts.
This grace.
So glad for the flow of words.
On page.
Around circle.
Among friends.
So glad for a place to share and
stretch and grow
In myself.

Walking a wheat field.
Breaking bread with my tribe.
So glad that SwampFire too
stretches and grows.
Being always in this moment.
This moment being always in motion.
Honoring all that has come before.
Expectant for the next year
while holding no expectation.
So glad. So very, very glad.

Mary Catherine Harper

SwampFire keeps getting better and better. I feel such gratitude for all the artists who come to share their time, their insights, their joyful creativity.

Thank you, SwampFire Tribe.

Thank you, Dragonfly and Deer, for sharing your home with all of us two-legged critters.

Steve Smith

. . . There are benefits beyond the interactions. It’s kind of a cleansing every year. Not just physically. It helps me clear out my head. I’m so isolated as an artist without Doug Fiely around. It’s a very good insight for me to see the creative process in a different way. I’m dreadfully missing teaching. I miss encouraging students to grow. That’s what the night circle is for . . .when some kind of language comes, this is cool. That’s what I miss about teaching.