poem: translation of the act

and I would be remiss if I did not address you

 

My friend, the night has been long

 and I stand at the edge of dawn in a world

          too small

    for all the sunlight it could hold.

Much spills over and is lost

  in the translation of the act.

The cynic would view the gold we dug

   with bare hands

     and see only the hidden un-motives

  the False Prophet claiming distorted Untruth.

 

aah but you... capturing me, trapping me

   in my dark, turning me 180 to face you,

       cupping the visage of my spirit in real hands

     sculpted, soil stained.

  Without a thing in this world to give me,

      you gave me back my world,

    one sublime 30 day passage at a time.

and your dove is a messenger

    in my own heart space. She tells me:

  maybe next time around, it will be our turn;

      her wings tickle my rib cage,

    from within, she is restless.

  What do I do with you though this time around?

Do I feed her more, or let her go?

 

Did we know exactly what we were doing

    when we paved a portion

   of the sky for joyous feet to tread?

      Could I, should I have known,

          how limited the time would be,

   and am I ready to give back the

gift that has sustained me as nourishment

   as warm bread to the famished

  frame? I have wrapped your footsteps

for a wonderful year

    in layered shrouds of obfuscation

       so that none would follow their trail

to their permanent impression in stone

       upon my little alcove.

 

He has become the curator of my past,

   and you claimed my future, wresting me

       from all I knew home to be, remade me

and dressed me in the garments

     and thoughts of your people, as you placed

   a lifetime of work-orders in my lost fingers.

You will always have my days in part, I fear

   but my nights have been cold and lonely

       with the type of lonely only those who travel

  alone to another realm

        can ever fully comprehend. I have

     encountered my present, maybe, in the path

 of a fellow traveler, and I need you now

       to tell me, to take me by the hand,

     to lead me to the edge of sunrise, to prepare

  the riggings of a sailing ship, and just tell me:

 

you would follow along as the guide

    instead of companion, on a new

       voyage I would recklessly undertake

  back into waters for whose depths

     there have never been navigational charts.

   And I know now, upon their writing,

that my own words are a lie-

       because I'm going to want to keep

    your dove, and I hope that is somehow

just going to be ok with the world

     that has forgotten how to embrace

    all of its sunlight. Sometimes a woman's life

 is so vast, she requires more than one mapmaker.

 

 

 

 

 

Author's Note

exploring a theme, expanding on a dream sequence

Reviews

[emmajoy]

' aah but you... capturing me, trapping me ~ in my dark, turning me 180 to face you, ~ cupping the visage of my spirit in real hands ~ sculpted, soil stained. '

The power of those words seem to resound throughout your poem; your flowing, loving, wondering poem. You present a play with so many scenes, the dove it's accompanying music, and a masterly main character that appears to leave an indelible print on your thoughts.

' I have ~ encountered my present, maybe, in the path ~ of a fellow traveler, and I need you now to tell me, to take me by the hand, ~ to lead me to the edge of sunrise.. .. ' and your next and final stanza surely isn't the finish but .. a repeat performance, perhaps.

Beautiful, complex, intriguing.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you so much for your gentle and thoughtful review, my friend. Love is a lot more complex than I think most people care to admit; she carves us like diamonds to reveal facets upon facets. It always seemed to work for me, right time, wrong person; or right person, wrong time. except maybe if the person is right, then the timing is always exactly what it was supposed to be, regardless of long-term "success" of the outcome?" Maybe if instead of asking, "well why aren't you with him if it was so great," we could learn more by asking, "did you learn? did you grow? did you save each others' lives? did you open doors to magical realms for each other? does your world have more flowers because he walked through it?"

or maybe I'm too idealistic. I don't know. To me, an act performed in true loving grace, is never an act wasted.

[emmajoy]

I wonder if we ask too much from Love, from the other person, from self. That precious emotion can't be manipulated. It is, as you say, complex. To analyse its facets would absorb time and take away the delight of togetherness, surely. We look at the sky, see it for what it is: its shadows, its clarity, its clouds, birds, planes, ripples, etc., and we find beautiful as every moment, as it alters one panorama to another. Would we find it less beautiful if we stopped to note every part of it or, accept it for what it is, at the Then.. the next.. two days later, et al. Love is.. .. (Am using those words as the core of a write because since leaving a review,have been th inking about your words, my response. :) )

[Marie Anzalone]

I do not know that we can ask too much or too little from Love, but we definitely do ask too much of a single human partner many times. We ask the partner to save us, to be our end-all and be-all; our therapist, our mental, spiritual, emotional, sexual, and physical lover; our associate, our housemate, the parent of our children, our past present and future; to share our tastes and interests, etc. I have long thought there is a lot of room for improvement, for updating roles that are self-defeatist by nature.

[emmajoy]

Maybe asking all that is too much to ask or expect of one person. Perhaps acceptance of who he or she is is what matters, then, walking longside helps learn to walk the same stride. Still working it out.. but have learned that too much analysis of anything or anyone just fragments the whole. :)

[R J Askew]

'the curator of my past' is a lovely line .. but it is bettered by the thoughts in the last two lines .. I love those last two lines.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks, Orlando... I always believed that a poem needed an ending to tie the thoughts together in some way.. and that the best ones present a challenge to the reader. I am glad they impacted you here. Thank you kindly for the review, my friend. Blessings.

[lee von cleef]

the mind, the heart, the body, ahh the pulls of love, glass in my ears ? or honey ? smooth music ? or Sex un-orchestrated beauty of time bent ? consummated freedom. Yes, you have great dreams . Step lightly on thin ice....

[Marie Anzalone]

I wonder, lee, if we are ever allowed to know exactly how thin the ice is in our little worlds?

[lee von cleef]

Or how cold the water under it is ? Drop down your bucket.

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlande..]

I think this is slightly more than a dream..but it's all layers..you're expressing it all beautifully, and it's a lot to feel and think about and i'm incredibly tired or I'd say more

[Marie Anzalone]

What can I say, except that life sometimes hands us riddles without a clear answer, my friend? I find that having to carefully circumnavigate my experience in words helps me hold onto my illusion of normalcy sometimes. So much to take in at once, as you point out.

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

it's a worthy challenge..I'm slightly refreshed and drinking coffee..now might be a good time

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

unfortunately I had a water emergency..will get back to this

[Marie Anzalone]

ugh. well it makes you feel any better, we have been having earthquakes all night and day

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

DAMN IT WHY WOULD THAT MAKE ME FEEL BETTER?! BE SAFE! sorry caps..too lazy to retype that

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

yes be safe

[Marie Anzalone]

ever read Stephen King's thought on the ability to be safe while riding on a skateboard?

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

I googled it but I found something really weird

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

should i guess?

[Marie Anzalone]

well our internet decided to go down for several hours. In his book, "It," a main character tell a boy riding a skateboard to be careful, and the kid replies, "You can't be careful on a skateboard, mister." I think that is true of so many situations. You do your best but if you're doing it right, there's no good way to do It "carefully."

[Shmoke-Sifted Heftlander]

I've read a few of his books, but that's one I've only seen the movie for. I find that being careful can be careless, but all these terms can be so relative anyway

[Corset]

so gorgeous , your writes are always so very personable, they show your vulnerability but in such an intelligent way. Your reluctance to release the dove is so touching and I know how this feels too ...
beautifully expressed Marie.

[Marie Anzalone]

Blessings, Corset, and thank you for your review. I wonder how many of us have a dove in a cage somewhere? I would guess that we are far from the only two.

[Ken Simm.]

How the relationships of the past commune with those of the present and future. How for some love is a series of thoughtful times and episodes that come through and colour our lives with experiences that we then can peruse like pictures in a picture book.
As ever extraordinarily well written. One wonders, without being too forward or presumptious, whether the artistic skill present in this would be so well honed if not for the way you read your experiences.

[Marie Anzalone]

For something as infinitely profound as a relationship with another human being, how could we not be influenced by the ones we let in before? I don't think that the human offers a more instructive crash course in humanity than by how we deal with the hearts and bodies and minds and souls entrusted into our care, for short or long term. Children friends, lovers, spouses, animals- there is so much to learn from each situation. All of them compose a facet of love, I believe. We put them together to create the mural of our time spent on this planet. and you question is not presumptuous at all- our words as writers are always a reflection of our learning and experience; what we are open or closed to.

[Ken Simm.]

Of course that presupposes that all tke the time to read their love and attempt to place it in context. One of the major problems of this planet is that most do not. They are the most important part of a relationship and surely that negates any love.

[Marie Anzalone]

It is funny what happens with examination of things that removes us from the center of importance. We find that the experience is richer, more important when we do. I wonder sometimes is self-reflection itself is not becoming a lost art?

[Emily B]

wishing you travelling mercies, may the voyage be sweet and full of adventure

[Marie Anzalone]

Adventure is certain, mercy is not. Guess it was time for some things. This is the only hurdle to work through, I think. I've been jettisoning excess cargo like mad for a while. The rest is just logistics and timing.

[Emily B]

oh, so definitely time . . . and like any masterpiece, a work in progress

[Marie Anzalone]

I keep forgetting the adage about Rome not being built in day. Good reminder to take to heart :-)

[Marie Anzalone]

and might I add, I am glad you saw what I did not

[Emily B]

yin and yang, we compliment/complement each other :)