The One Who Went Away (Final Version)

'Many thanks to friend W Munn for his keen eyes, help in wrestling last few stray steers into line.'

Plough-boy,

at seventeen went to see

what wonders up til then

he'd only gleamed

reading Melville late

into the night. World,

wider than the forty acres

bred into his bones,

tugged until

the yoke broke, foot set

after foot along the rimy

road. Ten, twenty

years memory swept

the one he'd been--

those left behind

once and truly forgotten:

one by one, each

gave up the ghost,

tucked inside

their thoughts

his whereabouts--

had he ever once

regretted his exile's

charted course?

This one, he was

the one who went away.

The uncle nobody knew.

The one odd cousin

somebody had to be

named for.

A story told

to friends, to top

their one about the crazy

aunt never married--

skeletons locked away

inside the family closets.

Ken e Bujold

© 2022

Author's Note

This is a final, revised version of "The One Who Went Away" the first post I made upon joining the Cafe. This version tightens the narrative voice and purges a few of the more jarring bits from the original. I have left the original among my posts, should anyone wish to compare, or ponder the never-ending process of doubt that is this poet's bane of existence.

Reviews

[LJW]

"World wider than the forty acres bred into his bones"

I wish I had written that line. That's pure gold.

Some call us black sheep. Others know we are dreamers, rebels, not content walking in any other shoes but our own.

Love this piece.

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks for stopping by and the kind review, LJW, glad you enjoyed and found yourself a nugget

[W. Barrett Munn]

By Jove, I think he's got it. Now try this: the rain in Spain falls....

Winston