poem: A Star Questions Her Moon

for R, with much appreciation

 

 

For that is happiness: to wander alone
Surrounded by the same moon, whose tides remind us of ourselves,
Our distances, and what we leave behind.
The lamp left on, the curtains letting in the light.
These things were promises. No doubt we will come back to them.

-Hugo Williams

 

 

1. You are a poet trapped in an engineer’s life.

I watch you- the way you respond

to simple questions, with such care,

an enigma of consideration- How are you today,

becomes a journey of discovery into the story

of how your neighbor hurt his leg

before breakfast.

 

You tell me that you fly in dreams,

and I know it to be true, for you are

just fearless enough

to daydream out windows

while voices drone on with their usual

rapaste of excuses for the weary and famished.

 

Forty-seven years of vindication

for why it is necessary to break your back

in Oaxaca to buy a sack of corn;

for why we are condemned

to watch the land itself melt

under this new terrible onslaught.

 

Why your town’s children

may never again have enough to fill

distended bellies on stunted frames.

 

I understand your anger, for anyone

paying attention would be damned furious.

 

But you drop those parcels too in front of doorsills

before entering-

considering it impolite to bring bad energy

into another’s space.

 

2. I did not  truly grasp resilience

until I met you-

the only man I ever knew who worked

to put himself through grade school.

The wearied and oft-repeated story of your pueblo:

children, 3,

abandoned to the bottle,

finding charity on cold cobblestone streets

and sidewalks more often

than in beds. Your sister’s burned away hand

molded you, maybe, into the angry

warrior who takes life by storm.

 

It does not surprise me one bit-

that you found a gun strapped to your back

in the days of greater injustice,

fighting the unwinnable war.

 

I will never ask how many times

you fired.

 

3. And I know now you brought me here-

there was something to that shaman's story

it is your call I heard

across miles and decades;

your star, you said, the one you could hold in real life-

I only ask, how did you know where to find me?

 

4. a man from Texas stopped me mid-stride- asked me

if I love you. I pondered this unbidden query;

rolled it in my mind, tasted it, thought:

 

What a strange question. Ask the tides if they love the moon

that shapes and plies them, tugs on them

both into the curve of their destiny and against their will,

and there you will find my answer.

 

How can one not love the perfect fit

of an empty soul chamber

the width and shape of one's own body-

and yet how can one truly love from within

those walls that keep one ensconced,

but also, keep the owner resolutely

outside of your extended reach?

 

only as much and in the same way as the tides ever loved

their moon.

 

5. I know you will stand fast

and hold my hand when I am scared to death,

overwhelmed with the weight of it all-

as we watch the soils melt like sugar

and progress unravel, like cords trailing

from the kites you lift on holidays,

daydreaming of flight.

 

I wrap you in a hug, and feel the strength

in your frail frame.

You may be the first person

I trust will never abandon me

to this world to walk alone.

 

You understand my own anger,

 let me have my fights;

yet you whisper to me words of pure spun gold

when no-one is looking,

even as we engineer designs and test them

on the hearts and minds of unsuspecting pupils,

charts open and pens graphing

and tables covered in notes.

 

And you will never embrace the whole

of your poet self, and thus, by extension

never see the me in front of you,

seeing you.

 

It is maddening. How do I awaken every morning

not wanting to write poems

of the moon?

Reviews

[jacob erin-cilberto]

ah yes, the first line made me smile so much...i am the poet, my dad the engineer...we often didn't and still haven't seen eye to eye...he figured everything out with a slide rule...and by breaking it down into parts...like a scientist vs a priest...i always saw things differently and wrote...he always asked me what i was going to do with poetry?
maybe we are both still wondering...

at any rate...i found myself relating to this write..perhaps in a different way...no matter , engineer or not...two people can compromise and find a way to solve things, and to love.

my girlfriend is in the vein of my father...but we figure it out...

i probably seem weird to her sometimes...but i am not surprised by that.

really like this poem...

jacob

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks jacob, you have me smiling right now. I hesitated on this one, for many reasons, and am glad now that I tried to put it down. I understand the dilemma you say, for I am both a scinetist and a poet. Condemned to analyze my bizarre life before writing about it, I suppose. Try being the only scientist in the room who believes in reincarnation some time. Or attending a conference of mostly New Agers, trying to explain why their concept of DNA is wrong. Some days I just give up, others I find it soemwhere to make enough peace with my own self that I can actually get out of my own way and get some work done. That is what inner peace is all about, by the way.

You're welcome. :-)

[Brandon Langley]

This guy sounds like John McClain(from Die Hard) "It does not surprise me one bit-
that you found a gun strapped to your back"

[Marie Anzalone]

there is a reason the archetypes exist as they do :-)
thank you for the review and read.

[K. Louis]

Hi Marie-

This was really touching--both contemplative and commemorative, which are two
things I really love in a good poem. I heard the truth in your voice.

"Ask the tides if they love the moon
that shapes and plies them, tugs on them
both into the curve of their destiny and against their will,
and there you will find my answer."

^ Great!!

..and the conclusion, really loved the last two stanzas. Outstanding.
Well done.

p.s. Also, great title!

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you very much, K, for this thoughtful review. This write was very dear to my heart, and your noticing the details and nuances means a lot to me. I wanted to let you know that I jumped over to your page, as well, and was very impressed with what I found there. Expect some reviews soon.

[K. Louis]

I could tell in your words it meant a lot. Thanks so much for stopping by my page! :)

[DCT ponderings]

This is going into my favorites immediately. I want to read it again and again. I can't even begin to tell you how it touched me.

I think the greatest gift we can get in life is to truly be seen for who we are. And if we are lucky to be loved in that reflection. This is so beautifully exemplified here. Incredible Marie.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, DCT. This was a highly personal piece for me to write, and your beautiful review makes me glad I got up the courage to pen my thoughts. It is difficult to write about Platonic love, and I worried that this was too over-the-top, would be misconstrued as sexual. When I write, I try to make something in it universal, able to be understood by others reading the work. And yes, you are so right- having another see you for who you are in a reflection is an amazing experience. rarest of rare is when they do love you for it.

[DCT ponderings]

I am so glad you did pen this. Rarest of the rare indeed and what I wish for most in my life. Thank you for sharing it.

[Marie Anzalone]

I think maybe we all do, DCT, on some level.

[Jen]

.

[Chas. R. Lionheart]

This is a very beautiful poem. I read it several times over.

[Marie Anzalone]

Thank you, Chas. It was nice of you to stop by. I am curious what you liked about this- what compelled you reread it several times?

[Cool Handless Luke]

a very beautiful tribute to someone that you portray in such a light as to make me feel i know them somehow after reading this. and a truly perfect ending!

[Marie Anzalone]

Thanks for your beautiful review, Luke. I was trying to describe this person's essence via use of facts, and I am glad you think I succeeded. Also very happy you got my ending. What is there to do sometimes but shake your head in frustration and write baout it, even when it breaks your heart to do so? Not the first time I have done that, but one of the more poignant. I like to think it means I am getting closer to the source with each pass.

I appreciate you taking the time to read this and give me your thoughts.

[Tree]

The poet here takes great care illuminating this rare soul. When a man like this gets angry there is always a valid reason, and you are forced to take heed. Real character and true compassion seems to be forged better, tougher in a place where things are hard. And these types of people have earned the power through sheer determination to move that which can be moved, and sometimes that which cannot. An excellent tribute, Marie.

[Marie Anzalone]

"to move that which can be moved, and sometimes that which cannot." Yes- that is exactly what I saw in this man when I asked him to be my right hand guy. More a hunch than anything- all the rest came later. You are very prescient in your comment about power. The kind of adversity you speak of is the kind that builds real power. I have found it to be deceptively gentle, easily dismissed by those who do not know better, a tidal wave in force when aroused in to action. Tidal waves start off imperceptably, a slight ripple, but tower to tremendous heights when they reach their target shoreline. This man is constantly apologizing for his anger. Yesterday, he told me of a fight he started once. Please forgive my anger, he said, but I could not help myself. A man was beating a small child in the street. I stepped in and took him on, instead. Punched him in the head, he said, when the guy would not let up. You don't think I am a bad person, do you? I wish we decorated everyday warriors, the protectors of the helpless, as much as we do our soldiers. They are indeed rare souls. Funny, I have known this individual for just about 2 years now, and I have, just within the past 6 months or so, made a friend here on WC; who, from what little I know through his writing and messages, reminds me in many ways of this individual. That is honestly one of the highest compliments I can think of to bestow on a man.

[Leica]

What a beautiful devotional..The moon man will never dim his light, for that is not in the nature of his soul..
Beautifully written Marie.. Always such a pleasure to read your words..

[Marie Anzalone]

I wonder, do we relay too much on others to bring light to the world for us? My friend has his days, like everyone. The difference is, many in his life think he does not need the support everyone else does, because he is such a pillar to them. No-one's light is strong all of the time. Why are we so afraid to extend out hands to those who manage it most of the time?

I am just rambling. I appreciate your review very much. Thank you.

[Marie Anzalone]

*rely

[Leica]

I want to add. the ones we see as strong, unbreakable may be the ones that need our attention and love the most..

[Marie Anzalone]

exactly what I believe, Leica.

[Mark]

I don't know who "r" is, but he sounds like an amazing man. Anybody whose internal truth is as sublime as these words indicate, despite the torments and scatheings that have been dealt him over the decades, is to be envied rather than pitied. I truly believe that, "Ask the tides if they love the moon..." may be the most beautiful and prescient of all the lines of poetry I have ever ingested.

[Marie Anzalone]

Nice to see you stopping by, Mark- much appreciated. That line you chose is the one that came to me in a dream, forcing my hand to craft the rest around it. "R" is a real person, and yes, he is an extraordinary man. He is one of the myriad individuals I work with down here, They are all dynamic and interesting, but there is something about this one that goes a little farther. He and I work closely together almost daily, as he is one of my right hand persons. We have developed a pretty strong confidence in each other, and I have a deep admiration for him. I hope this strikes the right notes.

[emmajoy]

Seems you've written north, south, east and west of this person .. he encompasses every part of your thought whether analysed, accepted, questioned, loved, wondered at, wondered about, admired, pitied, and or but at all times, special. There are so many quotes i could select from this emotional near biography but it would be like chipping something away from the overall picture.. perhaps that final stanza says as much as can be.

[Marie Anzalone]

I have dancing around this subject for some time, Emma. Denial can be a powerful motivating force. I guess soemthing in me this week broke, and I decided there were a few areas in my life I needed to meet head-on- this being one of them. I had an extremely bizarre day yesterday, and it kind of forced the issue a bit for me. Scratch that. Call it a bizarre emotional roller coaster of a week and we will be closer to that truth. And no closer to resolution. I tried deflecting in a major way and that did not work so well. So now, I deal directly. I think it will resolve itself in time.

[Marie Anzalone]

*been

[emmajoy]

(You)