This late night, unexpectedly,
Heavy woolen mist moves about
Half-finished concrete stairwells and
Square columns, tributes
To a former war
Magical recasting mist;
Streetlights softened, Trees adorned with dewy veils
Cold cement fragmented shells subdued
Hushed evening noises
Call me in
Nightcloud lying low
Oracle replete; yet dark streets beckon,
Deeper calling; why do I delight
In such a raw wind’s stirring
Of my easy peace?
I am reminded of
My father’s bookshelf, and the Song of Hiawatha and
Theseus and Minotaur and ballads and harp-weavers
Words I cherished tenderly, with youthful grasp,
As mother died to save her son.
I am reminded of
My father’s hands, tending me, protecting me
Walking long the fields and woods and creeks
Walking far in silence; smiling heart.
Here was his joy.
Half a world away
My father’s voice speaks out from unfamiliar quarters
Not grumbling, withholding; but
Joyfully and clearly now
He speaks to me.
He was once young,
Upon a time, and his beloved one encircled with his heart
Lavishing his passion, his young hopes and fertile dreams,
Upon her breast--
How sore his hurt.
...........
He was her firstborn son,
Curly dark-haired gentle boy.
Polish daughter, she, and he, Italian son,
Their loving loins-their unison
Now fully known.
.
She thirsted for the open fields
Flower chocked, and windy blown, with bleating sheep.
Her honking goose, screeching rooster, chasing children;
She never hurried, walking softly, Holding little hands
Within her own
.............
And did he not the same as her
Crave the pulsing long-grass fields and close and earthen woods
With sun shafts striking dense clayscented refuge of the deer;
And lakeside picnics, tumbling families
fighting, laughing, eating, stroking
Nonnie’s garland gray?
Rises here
In this forsaken place, Out of the fog, out of the veil
These pillared floors, these concrete dams, curled about with
Incense mist, summoned forth, this
Temple tall, this mystery.
Author notes
written May, 2007/Damour, Lebanon
with love to my father
Comments
1 - 8 of 8
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Stirring!
How beautiful are your expressions! Every Stanza (I think that's what they are called, I've never studied poetry) makes me hungry for the next. I especially love the Nightcloud lying low..Oracle replete; yet dark streets beckon, Deeper calling; why do I delight in such a raw wind's stirring of my easy peace?....that is just a remarkable display of poetic prowess. Your words, as the wind's, are stirring! I could not even begin to interpret such vast imagery but I do feel that you are a women who dwells in difficulty yet pulls beauty from her breast through the fondness of memory and the experiences of such a wonderful family. Please send more of yourself my way!
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;9
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a very personal view of your life, family, that gives authenticity -
Your origins shape ones interpretation - Lebanon- a place of beauty, conflict, strife -
As one who grew up fatherless due to an early death as a Pilot, I find this touching, and a testimony to a family love as I myself bring myeself to terms with the growth of my kids to adults
I am fortunate to have read this - you write with a gentle but directed passion
Beautifully written - and a write I am priveledged to read
Richard
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Transcendent ...
Combining the warmth and coziness of ‘wool’ with the confusion and unhappiness symbolized by ‘mist’ is a fascinating metaphor that drew me into your yearning for security … maybe protection … even from loved ones. The war ruin symbol adds to it with an image of brokenness from the turmoil, destructive forces and lost fiends that are so much a part of our human experience. Then from the sadness of this, we’re taken to hope, found in the lasting imprint on your soul … left by a two generation legacy of love … of your father, from his knowledge (books), from silent walks with him and from being close to his parents. We experience it, at the picnics, in holding hands and in your connection to the natural wonder of your childhood. Finally you bring the ‘smell’ of heightened self-awareness with your image of incense that mystically transcends the unhappiness and confusion of your ‘mist’. Yes, as has already been said … you truly have the heart of a poet. Love, Sultan
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THANK YOU
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I love the line ", tributes to a former war,"
I loved this poem, from its set up to its meaning and words. LOVED IT -
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Thank you
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such a beautiful peom. Its very nice. Thank you so much for entering and good luck!
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