What is and has been
A few days ago, my friend from abroad suggested I might bring a poem to his gathering: a men’s circle to meet and honor his upcoming wedding. Some take any excuse (including a night before their marriage) to degrade themselves; others welcome every opportunity to become more noble, more responsible, more human.
It’s been many months since poetry has been one of my languages. If words have wings, the weather had been too cold, and their sounds had all flown south; some inattention on my part, or brusque gesture had brushed them away… So I greeted my friend’s request like spring sun: I walked through finished works and works I had partially-completed, and each one alit like another forgotten flock, and with many smiles of recognition, the trees were suddenly filled again!
What a relief; winter is a such frozen, silent place.
I hadn’t posted this poem before and, though it isn’t one for a wedding gift, its gentle elegy and forward glance were somehow in tune with my moment. It seemed right to send it skyward.
 "Flame" by Armene @ DeviantArt.com | _WHAT IS AND HAS BEEN_Maybe it was – seems long ago – I danced on a flickering flame where my feet would burn if I stood my ground and another tongue, insistent, called my name I leaned into tomorrow as though I were bound to the wind Where does an echo lead? I heard a sound: I turned: again: the globe as it spun was the head of a pin whose angels (and lost souls) so crowded in they jostled one another, profane, divine, profane, divine So I spent my days It’s easier, now my earth has cooled, to love what is and has been: laughter heard in another room a smile, a hand, another land that falls behind, a wake the chance we take, to dance in love, to burn or drown, to learn |
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June 2010, West Newbury, MA