Even at the highest point, I cannot reach the stars, But stars were not what I was searching for – Wings, perhaps, or the sensation of flight, Gliding on insubstantial breath, peacemaker In the family, head among the clouds. At the highest point, the air thins out, And the trick is never to look back, Lest the heart turn to salt from abuse, Or stare directly in the sun, but to glance For what might come over the horizon And pound the earth, destitute as hope Welcoming the unknown with knowable Signs, certain there is something That cannot be broken down Beyond the breaking of a word, From its consensual beauties, When all I needed was to take a walk Away from home, and landed here, At the highest point, that I did not recognize Marked the furthest I could go, Because how paltry were the things I had accomplished from what I had intended, And the clutter lay at my feet an abandoned Campfire, another memory I had hoped snow could obliterate, Since it came to me in pieces to connect, And I no longer could see my feet Or touch my toes, among family plots, Having buried both parents. Now I am Here, a stranger at the highest point, Hoping for a magnetic draw to pull Me through, the wind having gone From my sails, all direction lost, While the rock, which is a butte And a body, erodes even its echo Though what I long for are other voices Taking over the narrative, offering Comfort as if they cared, but cold Shears the ears at this altitude. I have been sent out to find the feather That will complete my wingspan And give a peacock its tail Or a sundial its shadow Here at the highest point I shall ever attain.
The Rock
ReplyDelete[After Stevens]
Even at the highest point, I cannot reach the stars,
But stars were not what I was searching for –
Wings, perhaps, or the sensation of flight,
Gliding on insubstantial breath, peacemaker
In the family, head among the clouds.
At the highest point, the air thins out,
And the trick is never to look back,
Lest the heart turn to salt from abuse,
Or stare directly in the sun, but to glance
For what might come over the horizon
And pound the earth, destitute as hope
Welcoming the unknown with knowable
Signs, certain there is something
That cannot be broken down
Beyond the breaking of a word,
From its consensual beauties,
When all I needed was to take a walk
Away from home, and landed here,
At the highest point, that I did not recognize
Marked the furthest I could go,
Because how paltry were the things
I had accomplished from what I had intended,
And the clutter lay at my feet an abandoned
Campfire, another memory
I had hoped snow could obliterate,
Since it came to me in pieces to connect,
And I no longer could see my feet
Or touch my toes, among family plots,
Having buried both parents. Now I am
Here, a stranger at the highest point,
Hoping for a magnetic draw to pull
Me through, the wind having gone
From my sails, all direction lost,
While the rock, which is a butte
And a body, erodes even its echo
Though what I long for are other voices
Taking over the narrative, offering
Comfort as if they cared, but cold
Shears the ears at this altitude.
I have been sent out to find the feather
That will complete my wingspan
And give a peacock its tail
Or a sundial its shadow
Here at the highest point
I shall ever attain.
{Disposable Poem June 7, 2010]
Dr. Mike
Dr. M:
ReplyDeleteBravo.
H. K.
Oil. Don't forget SPILLED oil.
ReplyDelete