I stand before the vast forest
that shares my name
A tremor of doubt,
a sliver
will you come out
I stand before all
my infinity
Bound as bound can be
the two of us,
in Tennessee
I stand in the dark
before a path I cannot see
How quickly night fell
my head spins,
its own private hell
I stand, hands behind my back
listening to murmurs of branch and leaf
My feet move, my body doesn't
I remember a past,
wondering, if, it wasn't
I stand of face and crimson cheek
cold and wet with reality
I can't go back
nor change what was not
but seek a star, against the black
So Stand with me
of this I ask
and let's atone
what our minds conceive
for the mountain, ours, to own
9 comments:
I love the tall trees of Tennessee :)
Driving from Atlanta to Nashville, I tried to peek out of the car window to see the tops, but they were so tall that I couldn't really see them. The pastoral scenery was so picturesque & beautiful specially the babbling brooks & the cows upon the meadows & the flea markets ...all so Walt 'Whitmanian'
keep the wick burning & it will melt the wax in which it lies trapped & the light will emerge soon...
I too love the beautiful rolling green hills of Tennessee. Could easily live here the rest of my life.
Thanks for the kind words Mona. :-)
So Stand with me
of this I ask
and let's atone
what our minds conceive
for the mountain, ours, to own
Faith the size of a mustard seed is said to be able to move that mountain... so two standing in agreement should certainly be able to own it.
When one is 15 and not talking (opening up), the mountain seems like Everest.
Form once again noticeable in this writing, the repetition in the first line and the deviation at the end working exceedingly well towards atmosphere and sustaining sequence and smooth movement between stanzas. Definitive poetry, the kind recognizable without having to read, reading reveals this to be a deluxe edition. Expressions within a source as so often before delight and of enchantment, and I feel the desire to ask questions, somewhat irrelevant, related instead to simple curiosity about the writing process, like were the first two lines the first two written, and how much if any effort was needed to create the rhythm correspondences and rhymes, or were they easily found once the preliminary form, the first complete stanza, was found. A tremor of doubt, a sliver Wonderful vibrations of sound, and I noticed too that line four more or less throughout continues to vary, differentiate itself from, the rhymes that frame. Very emotive, regret, doubt, questioning, of a past that brought this present, of the present not holding perceptible promise and yet trust remains, trust that another present, a future present will erase or fade at least those questions, those concerns, trust that hope is right to shine brighter. Distinguished poem.
Well, this was not so much writing as recording. Not sure I spent more than five minutes jotting down what was killing me inside. My son is like a vast forest, whispering in the night breeze, but otherwise silent, withholding his secrets within his multitude. Sliver was chosen in the sense of shard, of glass, of cutting--I am slivered and cut by a shard of doubt, a sliver, which makes me tremble in pain and I am asking the forest, my son, if tonight, on the phone, "will you come out" will you talk to me?
My infinity is a way of saying my son is my extension into the future just as I was for my father--he lives in me and I shall live in C after I am gone and in that, we are bound, bound as can't be unbound.
I could explain the rest, but what fun would that be. :-D
Hope I answered your question--at least somewhat. This, by the way, as some of the latest poems, are attributed to Rilke's advice in letter one--which to paraphase said: Write what you know. What I've written here is what I know because it is what I live. Doesn't really feel like writing--just a recording.
Take my hand in faith my dear friend. I won't let go...promise.
Hugs,
Kimmie
Thank you for sharing this very personal and lovely "recording".
BTW - I drove through the Smokey Mountains years ago, and to date, have not experienced anything as beautiful as that ride. I felt like I had entered another world. They had a ineffable feel.
Deb, you are very welcome. The Smokey Mountains are a really special place. I remember my first time too. :-)
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