I can’t get lost. Did you know? I have a talent for direction, particularly in a forest, & I’ve always been Dissatisfied. Full of angst about life and living it. I’m convinced these two things go together.
I was a 4 year old philosopher -having thoughts like: When I’m older I’ll be able to get lost, run into a wood and have enough land covered in trees. I’ll go so far I won’t be able to find home. Won’t that be comforting, enough space to be lost in? And I’ll find the missing piece that will shut up that needling little creature of consternation and discontent.
I’ve been in a row with some missing piece and a disquiet my whole life. Some folks seek God, or stillness, or a damn good explanation. Man, I’ve done it all. I’ve paid a lot of good money to get it all explained. My latest explainer says – just let it be. Life is quicksand and your thrashing isn’t doing you a damn bit of good.
Grief is the only forest I’ve ever been lost in.
Sometimes I go into my grief forest unaware. I, half-asleep, climb those trees. Look for miles around at the leaves of loss in life. The leaves of growth. The inevitable slow reach to hold them, and the certain sadness at their crumbling. The constant dissatisfaction teaching the body over and over what it means to hold without guarantees and how to feel empty without bitterness.
2 poems on love & loss & renewal:
A Pretty Song
From the complications of loving you
I think there is no end or return.
No answer, no coming out of it.
Which is the only way to love, isn’t it?
This isn’t a playground, this is
earth, our heaven, for a while.
Therefore I have given precedence
to all my sudden, sullen, dark moods
that hold you in the center of my world.
And I say to my body: grow thinner still.
And I say to my fingers, type me a pretty song,
And I say to my heart: rave on.
And this one too:
Love sorrow. She is yours now, and you must
take care of what has been
given. Brush her hair, help her
into her little coat, hold her hand,
especially when crossing a street. For, think,
what if you should lose her? Then you would be
sorrow yourself; her drawn face, her sleeplessness
would be yours. Take care, touch
her forehead that she feel herself not so
utterly alone. And smile, that she does not
altogether forget the world before the lesson.
Have patience in abundance. And do not
ever lie or ever leave her even for a moment
by herself, which is to say, possibly, again,
abandoned. She is strange, mute, difficult,
sometimes unmanageable but, remember, she is a child.
And amazing things can happen. And you may see,
as the two of you go
walking together in the morning light, how
little by little she relaxes; she looks about her;
she begins to grow.
It’s a Human condition – living with empty. Living with grief . It’s a bit of bravery -continuing to reach towards joy.
Place here an image gallery shortcode (Add Media → Create Gallery) or video-page URL starting with http://