at age six
I ran away from home.
it's hard to run away
when not even allowed
to cross the friggin' street,
for to meet
patient destiny
life's ageless span
daily became same:
flurried blurs,
factasy avowed
to who--and you,
while crossing
our own avenue
brief--duration of life
yet painfuly slow,
filled with strife
when time to go.
ought I...cross this path?
thought I, "no"...hmmm!
"I no longer love her
that's certain...
but maybe I do love her?
--love is so short
forgetting is so long *"
*Pablo Neruda, 1904-1973
near age something-nine
oh yes! I felt fine.
in unison voices...loud!
hear them! “run, run, feet.
but don't cross that street!”
sweetest bird-sounds,
violin among tall trees
ashes and butterflies
together flew by--
a brother deceased,
un-wombed...
spread by breeze,
entombed
in the universe
whispered to me
in foreign code,
“...do not cross that road!”
steve e
as edited from one april 2012 posting
Posted for D'verse Poets Pub
OpenLinkNight -week #125
every Tuesday,
starting at 3 pm EST.
a bit haunting in the end there...the dead brother whispering...its funny i ran away from home around the same age and waited at the road edge...ha..i wonder how many did that...smiles....at sixteen i crossed the road a bit...that is a bit of a darker memory for me...there are some boundaries we should not have to cross you know...smiles.
ReplyDeleteI like the spirit of the brother looking out for you. I think it softens the harsh reality of feeling the need to run at so young an age.
ReplyDeleteThis is quite haunting, Steve. Some roads definitely should not be crossed.
ReplyDeleteI really liked the Neruda quote worked in...especially 'love is so short, forgetting so long."
I really like the sound of "flurried blurs" and the image of the ashes and butterflies. Nicely done!
ReplyDeleteCrossing roads better to look both ways first..has a spiritual feel to it
ReplyDeleteand we should listen when a voice whispers in our ears as it is usually
a warning of some sort and we should become alert.
P&L my friend..
for some reason a picture of Calvin (of Calvin and Hobbes) sprang to mind with your first verse. cool write, Steve ~
ReplyDeleteoy that gave me some shivers... i always wanted to run away from home...and did one night with a friend...but in the dark the world looked more frightening than home...so we went back really quickly...smiles... don't cross that road to soon even though we know what awaits us on the other side.. smiles
ReplyDeleteI hear the pain in this ...I am sorry. Sometimes we just don't know what is waiting for us..and sometimes we just can't help ourselves to find out. :)
ReplyDeleteSo very true of life especially when one reaches a certain level of maturity or as some say, getting older.
ReplyDeleteI will cross the line/ the road again and again ... well ... some ... and some ... not ... smiles ...
ReplyDeletechilling - I can only imagine what it must be like to lose a brother this way; you've enriched that imagining with your words. The unwombed brother now entombed is an especially powerful image.
ReplyDeleteTony
To me this reads a poem of aging.. while some things remains the same.. the process and the life story to loosing a brother.. a very strong and sad write...
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