Called to Stand Trial Again

I should have known there was no way to defrost 

the midnight moment’s forest once

we climbed aboard the waiting griffin’s withers. 

Having elected to fly, terra firma 

ostracized gravitational rights to smooth 

sailing. Any notion of a graceful exit, 

landing on my feet before our settled destination, 

was as likely as Leonid’s bushy eyed scowl

wafting through the Tagansky district 

(the night Henderson lit the red light   

for the third and final time) 

might have been an invitation to perestroika.  

Would it always ever after be this way?

Glued to the icy depths of an acrylic pane 

I kept my reservations to myself, wavering

between doubt and desire all the way to Guam.

Ken e Bujold

Author's Note

small note to aid in conceptualizing the 3rd V. On Sept 28th, 1972 Paul Henderson scored a goal with 34 seconds left in the 8th and final game of the Canada USSR Summit Series, thereby securing Canada's collective psyche. For American friends, think Bobby Thomson's home run to win the pennant. No other singular event in Canadian history has been as deeply unifying as that blustery afternoon in Canadian history. The entire country stood still. Never before and not since have we been so unified.

Is the poem about that moment? Nope. Well maybe. It's what it is. Finding a way through adversity.

Reviews

[Soren]

From the first few lines, this poem stood out as something far deeper than the surface. It is haunting in an intellectual as well as emotional way. Like sliding into a pit one grabs at everything to gain understanding ad give meaning. It is there, but can I catch it. Grasping vines, some pull loose some are firm I try to pull myself up to see the light. Your note was a good rope that you threw me. I loved the lines
"I should have known there was no way to defrost
the midnight moment’s forest once
we climbed aboard the waiting griffin’s withers. "
Very poetic in it's metaphor.
"Glued to the icy depths of an acrylic pane
I kept my reservations to myself, wavering
between doubt and desire all the way to Guam."
A very clever play on the word reservations A masterful write

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks for the generosity of your review soren. glad your enjoyed the work

[W. Barrett Munn]

When you pull out the big guns you blow us all away. This is definitely a big gun poem. The imagery is remarkable, from griffin to acrylic pane. Leonid Bresnev and parestroika used in a poem ought to be worth a high five or something! The whole thing tumbles along magificently and reminds me of something I have been tumbling through my head-how close is a good poem to a good song. What creates a hit song and are there similarities to a fine poem?

Winston

[Ken e Bujold]

this one was an enjoyable romp through fields of "don't know where i am going". over course of about ten days just muddled along through various writes. each one produced line or two worth keeping. then the rift on henderson popped in my head and poem locked itself down. grew from just another O what if into something bigger. always hesitatant to talk themes in my work, but definitely aware that they exist here.

ken

[emmajoygreen]

Your Author's Note was/is a great help, thank you - now to read again!.

'wafting through the Tagansky district
(the night Henderson lit the red light
for the third and final time)
might have been an invitation to perestroika.

Two fine stanzas before the one above.. which, kindly said more than...

'Would it always ever after be this way?
Glued to the icy depths of an acrylic pane
I kept my reservations to myself, wavering
between doubt and desire all the way to Guam.'

Seems you almost felt the finale but. will this reader ever know, am I lost in mystery. Great language, memorable phrasing,

[Ken e Bujold]

thanks em. not just the reader lost in the mystery. life is but a fog, through which we glimpse shrouds of existence's many shades

ken

[emmajoygreen]

True - absolutely and so easily lose ourselves in the fog.