Today, an elegy. Sigh. I don’t really want to go that direction.
I feel like I have really overblown the good memories of earlier Poem-a-Day experiences. Looking back on that first November, I feel like every poem was a hit, or nearly so. And I feel like I am pulling out my own teeth to get the words to flow this month. Of course, not all my poems back in that first experience were winners, and I think that this month I at least have some good fodder to work with at the end of the month.
Mockingbird says, “Sometimes it’s like that. Sometimes you don’t feel inspired or inspiring. Write anyway. Get out the dreck so you can let the pure clear waters flow.” Ack. Mockingbird. Maybe I liked your growling better.
I have not named it yet, this distance,
this door that stands between us.
Or I have, actually, I suppose,
but when a dragon sheds its skin
it takes on a new name befitting its changes,
and perhaps our story is like that,
needing a new naming
for each of the skins we have scratched off.
First, I called it Waiting.
Me waiting for you to call out
from your side of the door,
to say you needed me now,
to say you would be taking visitors again.
I made forays, you cannot say I didn’t,
and you met me, and that part
was called Wrestling and Wrangling.
I thought we were making progress
at opening that heavy door.
But it stays closed.
And I have sat here on this side of it,
worrying and brooding, and frustrated and sad,
for years, perhaps, and the cobwebs are heavy
upon me. So heavy. They weigh like shame.
I sat here so long simply waiting,
wondering whether I ought to just leave,
that I didn’t hear you tiptoe
off into the distance on your side of the door.
I think this is an elegy.
What comes next
will not be part of this story anymore.
Perhaps we’ll meet again,
newborn and fresh,
somewhere in Rumi’s field,
and that will be a new thing,
and I will bless it heartily.
(Now I will brush the cobwebs aside.
Now I will stand and step away from the door.)
1. Pink-nosed calf frolicking in the field and its careful mama keeping watch
2. Pink trees blooming everywhere
3. Snowball guineas on Ducktown Road
4. Putting it to rest
5. More and more poems on the Poetree
May we walk in Beauty!