I listen to evening
as I sit on a rock
by the edge of a forest
and a robin is singing a song
of goodnight, sleep-tight doors
and curtains blowing in the windows
I've been walking a path near the forest
peering at the tree shadows
tucked like blankets on a May night
the moss is like carpet in your room
when no one else is there
and that's just fine with you
I'm listening to Nick Drake
who was more withdrawn and melancholy
than life could bear
he slept peacefully with a handful of prescriptions
either on purpose or by mistake
and I listen to him now thirty years later
which might piss him off
because not many cared
before he died
but then again he might be happy
that his blood on guitar strings
was not so pointless
or a vicious disappointment
he sings in the forest under muting leaves
nearby
and I know what he's talking about
as I stroll and listen
with him not knowing I'm there
and I'm curious why my feet won't cross the boundaries
with my own version of a guitar
and the makings of a tune
where I can sing to shrews and poking mushrooms
and sing myself to sleep
but my path walks the borderline
even when I invite it to turn
so I guess I'm the one that strolls
and tells you what I hear
you who may or may not be listening
now or in thirty years
while I sit on this rock
and point out Nick
to the emerging stars
letting him say what he needs to say
as you stroll on your own path
nearby
and listen to what I need to say
8 comments:
If I close my eyes while listening, I feel like I am flying, looking down, searching.................
Very nice, thank you!
Gia
I wonder at times if the actual turning from the marked path is as important as the desire to turn. Not every foot is meant to move into the unmarked places. Simply pointing to the place to turn is often the only reason the stable wind up there. It could be that the fulfillment of your mission is to show them whose destiny it is to travel the wilderness where to get off the track.
Figuring out what your part on the stage and being satisfied in it is the hardest accomplishment of all.
The Walking Man has said it all, but I'll add that the imagery in this is lovely (dark and deep - to quote a friend). You make walking on the edge seem attractive, and that is part of the problem.
NICE.
"Not every foot is meant to move into the unmarked places"and what Walking Man said is very true.
Lovely poem.
I think about all the times I've seen other paths, but I cannot say I regret not taking any of them. The awareness that they exist, though, paints the one I've chosen in interesting ways.
Gia, I like that! That you feel carried.
Walking Man, I think I feel pulled in two distinct directions. I'm the result of two opposing forces. The balance forms a third place.
Karen, you make a great point. Why is the edge so attractive to some of us?
Bernita, there's no return from many of those unmarked places.
Shakespeare, that's so true. Not taking a path changes the nature of the one we're on.
The Pastoral Elegy here is almost Miltonic!
Great piece of writing!
( must find time to read Seed!)
Mona, thank you for such high praise!
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