At Peace

Something from the vaults of yesteryear

It was a time when I could feel beyond

My own intelligence

One or two AM

I sat on the brow of that mountain

The wind tangling my hair

In its hurry from the north

On either side of me the forgotten remnants

Of a summer garden

Dillweed, goldenrod, marigold

Withered and dried by encroaching autumn

Trees lifted unburdened arms skyward

Struggling to remain erect

The grass smelled acrid, burned

By the first frosts

A cold, pungent, dead-earth smell

Treetops making a jagged edge slope

Toward a switchboard city

Thousands seeking comfort in the glow

None of them knowing I sat above them all

In the stillness with a thousand memories

Of you and I discovering this rocky overhang

Beneath the warmth of summer stars

I knew I was alone now

 

The wind changed suddenly, blowing the

Clouds closer together

Bringing a mist of early morning rain

I let the droplets sink into my hair

Waiting for the darkest hour to come

And leave me waiting with my memories

There were no stars anywhere

In the sky

 

And it was beautiful.

-Zoe Richardson

 

Author's Note

I wrote this so long ago, on the cusp of true madness. I think it captures the dichotomy that fractured my mind before I knew it existed and the loneliness of the separation of self from sanity.

Reviews

[Fabian G. Franklin]

This is truly beautiful and I thoroughly enjoyed the entirety. Sanity is a relative concept. Foolishness to some is salvation to others. 1 Corinthians 1:23 But that is only one Biblical example. Mark 3:21 says the family and friends of Jesus thought He was insane. But those called to no longer be part of this world are often esteemed crazy by those who don't have or hear the same calling. There's an old saying about marching to the beat of a different drum which probably comes from this writing by Thoreau, "If a man does not keep pace with his companions, perhaps it is because he hears a different drummer. Let him step to the music which he hears, however measured or far away.” That, being so recognized, I would not deem "insanity" but rather clarity and purpose and being true to self as Shakespeare's character Polonius advises his son Laertes in Hamlet. If we cannot depend upon an intellect greater than our own, whether it be found in nature or scripture or in the wise words of a loving father, I fear that not only our intellect but our salvation (both physical and spiritual) may be at risk. Paul was once told by Festus that his great learning had driven him mad. So it is, that insanity may be an entirely relative concept. But I sincerely wish you peace, love and light. Highest marks on this wonderful piece of writing. Bless, F.

[Zoe Richardson]

I absolutely love your musings on sanity. Visionaries and rebels and great minds are often thought to be unhinged by the majority. I've always loved that quote by Thoreau. Alas, I truly was in the grips of clinical insanity, although a milder form. My behavior at the time was erratic, impulsive, irresponsible, and wholly irrational at best. It took almost ten years after this for medication to bring stability and focus to my life, my mind, and my poetry. On a side note, women throughout history were often thought mad if they were outspoken, learned, opinionated, or shook up the status quo. I try to do and be all those things on a daily basis, so I guess the medication hasn't cured me completely!

[Fabian G. Franklin]

I wish that all women and men could speak and be heard. Opinions are generally formed from experience unless they are pawns of indoctrination. The rich do not understand the poor because they are rich. Like the misquote of M.A. when told the people had no bread, "let them eat cake!" The poor girl lost has her head. I know she did not say that but it's often attributed to her to reflect that sort of attitude in the French "nobility" before the revolution. People need to be heard. I encourage learning; formulating opinions and expressing them and the "status quo" always has much to be desired. If the poets and philosophers do not point it out the human foibles in both society and its leaders, who will that mantle fall to? Religion alone? We've seen how corrupt that avenue can become as well. I will do as Rudyard Kipling advised, I will trust myself when all men doubt me but make allowance for their doubting too. "IF" by Kipling is one of my favorite poems. My mother read it to me when I was just a boy. Here's to to the men and women who speak, learn and express themselves with clarity and reason. I may not agree with everything anyone may say but I will defend, to the death, their right to be heard.

[Zoe Richardson]

As will I! How hard it is, in today's society, to say, "I respect your right to your opinion," even if you don't respect the opinion itself. Unlike a lot of people, I don't hate the rich. I don't think they are all completely out of touch. Some of the elite are, but others are innovators, movers, shakers, and make great contributions. The beauty of this country is that wealth is attainable by anyone with the guts, vision, determination, and willingness to work to get it. And once you obtain wealth, you get to keep it. No other country does that. Sure, they have a few oligarchs whom the government permits to live well, but by and large most governments confiscate wealth. The Beatles had something to say about that! I, too, like the Rudyard Kipling poem. My father read a lot of poetry to me, as well as classic literature. I can remember sitting on his lap as a very small child and hearing him read "The Raven," and the poems of Emily Dickinson. What a storm of words that created in my tiny mind! When I started writing my own poetry (I think I was six when I wrote my first) those were the people I tried to emulate. I didn't know anything about form or meter. I just knew what a poem was supposed to sound like. I think we as writers mirror our influences to a degree, while finding our own voice. It's what makes poetry so delightful!

[M. J. Smith]

For you, it spoke to a dark place in your psyche. For me, it conjures words from my past. Words that once spoke of a love taken from me by a senseless death. And yet, there is the solace of Nature. She does not judge. To her best ability, she offers only silent acceptance and often great beauty.

[Zoe Richardson]

There is beauty in starkness. There is beauty in madness and even in grief. I think Nature shows us all these things. Comfort creeps in when we pay attention to the beauty, no matter what is going on around us. Thank you for bringing your meaning and thoughts and to my words. They are greatly appreciated!

[M. J. Smith]

You are most welcome. My thoughts are shaped by time spent on the road when I was younger. I truly was a drifter. Didn't know who I was. Hit the road to find out. Poetry and the Bible became my constant companions. But nature unfolded memories that remain a permanent part of my soul.

[Zoe Richardson]

I was something of a drifter in spirit if not in actual practice. I moved several times, packing up at a moment's notice. It made me a flexible person, unattached to possessions. It also made me somewhat rootless and unattached to people. I have yet to decide if those assets or detriments.

[M. J. Smith]

I settled, started a family. But I still miss the road.

[William Michael Reeves]

This made me think of the beautiful light of the city at night and how it diffuses the stars. And how emptying our minds in poetic meditation and being one with the stillness allows our vision to see past the stars into our minds.

Bill

[Zoe Richardson]

Or allows madness to creep in. I was 19, sitting alone in the darkness on the side of a mountain in the wee hours of the morning. I'm lucky I didn't fall and break my neck! It was peaceful, though, and I appreciate your connection with my words.

[Kelly Scheppers]

If only the faults of my yesteryears were as productive and phenomenally executed as this! It shines with such a brilliance, like diamond glints of snow. I love the way you write, and the way it makes me feel!

[Zoe Richardson]

Awww! I am humbled by your kindness and praise. I wrote this so long ago and then promptly hid it, thinking it was not fit for human consumption. I'm glad you disagree and chose to say so!

[Coyote Poetry]

A wonderful journey in the poetry dear Zoe. I like to wake-up at 4 am. Find a quiet spot near the lake or the nearby river. It is cool to watch the morning re-born. Hello dear friend and good morning from cold and chilly Michigan. Thank you for sharing the amazing poetry and your thoughts.
Coyote

[Zoe Richardson]

I've always been an early riser. I like the peace and solitude. Both are balms to a frenetic mind. I appreciate your thoughts and time and all the effort you put into reading and commenting!

[Coyote Poetry]

I love your work dear Zoe.