Sunday, 2 August 2015

Geworfenheit




I am tired of talk
                 of monsters and words
                                             that taste of rusted chains                                                                            
and snare
               this beautiful,
                                extraordinary world
                                                       with a noose of syllables and syntax

And of those who redefine
                                 my hope in words
                                                         that I cannot recognise or understand...


What strange creatures we are:

We find ourselves flung among darkness and stars
Adrift and alone on a spinning globe
in an Eden we think we've lost.
Is it not surprising that our dreams are of fire and light?


And we people our worlds with such gods and demons
That we scarce can tell them apart
                                          or know which to worship
                                                                         and which to fear

So we find patterns among our footprints
and music in wind-blown trees
and we begin to see significance in the lines of each palm
and read our future in the shadow of our past

And we mark our lives with cups of tea
or things more insubstantial and find small
words to reach across the empty space that separates us
So that, for one small moment, the night erupts with the
spun-gold light of our small suns.

'The gate at the end of the vicarage snicket was blocked by cows again this morning.'
'I won't be surprised if a spot of rain will be coming our way.'
'The clock is running a little fast today.'
'I'll see you tomorrow then, God willing...
                                                             ... God willing'

Our globe still spins its path through all that silent darkness.

Come, show me your god
                                         and I will show you
                                                                   your deepest fears.

14 comments:

  1. “admit it. you aren’t like them. you’re not even close. you may occasionally dress yourself up as one of them, watch the same mindless television shows as they do, maybe even eat the same fast food sometimes. but it seems that the more you try to fit in, the more you feel like an outsider, watching the “normal people” as they go about their automatic existences.

    for every time you say club passwords like “have a nice day” and “weather’s awful today, eh?”, you yearn inside to say forbidden things like “tell me something that makes you cry” or “what do you think deja vu is for?”. f ace it, you even want to talk to that girl in the elevator.

    but what if that girl in the elevator (and the balding man who walks past your cubicle at work) are thinking the same thing? who knows what you might learn from taking a chance on conversation with a stranger? everyone carries a piece of the puzzle. nobody comes into your life by mere coincidence. trust your instincts. do the unexpected. find the others…” ~ timothy leary

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    Replies
    1. Wonderful!
      Viva the 'forbidden things' and the heart and courage to say them!

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  2. This really struck a chord with me. Wonderfully put.

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    Replies
    1. That is lovely to hear - thank you, Angela

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  3. Words.
    Strange little jewels, they are.
    I remember once the author Frank McCourt saying the first time he read Shakespeare it was like having * Jewels in his mouth.*
    I loved that.
    Your words are my jewels.
    And I could listen to you reading the phone book.
    I really could.
    Thanks R :)

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    Replies
    1. 'Jewels in the mouth' - yes I know exactly what he means. I'm so pleased (and also puzzled) to know that these words of mine - words I've chased round the room, words that evaded me and then reluctantly submitted to begrudgingly carry something of what I am trying to say - could ever be jewels in anyone's mouth!! :)
      Hahaha - be careful what you say! One day I might recite the phone book and then you'll all be sorry!!!

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    2. I'd be happy to listen to you recite the phone book too! I wouldn't be sorry.

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  4. Deeply powerful and beautiful. You always amaze and bewilder me with your writing..and the way you speak your poems is pure magic...I loved every single moment here,...every image, feeling and thought and vision you have woven in my mind and heart! Your poetry is magic and I am always transformed somehow!
    If I haven't said it before, thank you for the gift you share and the artist you are!
    Best wishes to you and yours!
    Victoria

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    Replies
    1. From one who can see so much in the world and feel it so deeply - your comment is richly appreciated. Thank you, Victoria

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  5. My best summer day

    I carried you poem near the sea and I read this as I was hearing the waves of Mediterranean.
    Because your poem is the "library of faith".

    Every time I read your personal wave of faith, I feel more human.

    Yannis Politopoulos

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  6. Wow! How deep and profound and true this is.

    I love this-
    "Is it not surprising that our dreams are of fire and light?"

    And totally agree with this-
    "And we people our worlds with such gods and demons
    That we scarce can tell them apart
    or know which to worship
    and which to fear."

    Somehow you've captured the crux of this bewildering life on this planet.
    It's beautifully written.

    Kelly

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  7. Its been too long! I miss your beautiful writing my friend!

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  8. I have missed your thoughts and your words.

    Through the silense I can imagine your next poem.

    Yannis Politopoulos

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  9. My Friend,

    Happy New Year.
    The spirit of your heart creates a better look to the harmony of thinking.

    Yannis Politopoulos

    ReplyDelete

For your voice is important... and words that are shared grow wings.