memory is a canticle
informing the present with its solemn grace and cadence
Like Lot’s
anonymous wife,
whose passion lay behind her,
we look back through the caul of the ever-
present consequential
thrum of traffic and dialog.
needs and must be.
appointments with no consequence.
No resonance.
we drink from this the chalice of rotting leaves.
makes good compost you say
always thinking of the garden
a thinning stand of trees
a fire in the distance
you can smell the smoke from the fire place
where someone has bought expensive wood from the stop and shop.
I want to go there again.
Like Lots nameless wife I am powerless
I look back
and am
frozen in place.
There is no forward.
Cursed by a tide of unreasonable expectation and given no carriage out
I want to go there again
To drink longingly from the river of Pieria.
2 comments:
this too shall pass. you must go forward. the past is as dead as lot's wife. greece is a land of beautiful ruins. the future is yours to color.
I smelled that stop and shop fire today. I love this poem! but don't be sad and dwell in the past; the people who love you think it's absolutely essential that you try to enjoy the present and look forward to the future. Of course there is resonance! Especially if you bring your writing with you, there is so much untold beauty for you! I love you!
B
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