Posted on by EAT

Amelioration

For some reason I’ve been thinking about this poem lately, written March 3rd, 2001. At least that’s the date on the file. Just now I decided to go ahead and have a look at it, maybe make sense of why it’s ‘calling’ to me all these years later.

As I read I couldn’t help my embarrassment—a reason why I rarely visit my older poems—and found myself editing as I went. To my surprise, I discovered I had already saved an earlier version a page down in the document. And, discovering this, I undid all my edits, copied the second draft and pasted it down on another page, then reapplied my edits. Might be interesting to look over revisions of older poems some day.

My edits were half-hearted. I just don’t really think this way these days. But it’s visual. Most of my older poems weren’t so. And the metaphor is strong. Perhaps I’ll write a new poem based on this idea, changing the voice and refocusing the approach entirely. But, for now, I thought it might be interesting to share this old poem.

Note that the original was center justified, and the second draft left justified. Here I’ve just about randomly indented the lines as I read, almost out of curiosity. The raggedness of the lines now actually feels more like the poem itself. I’ve kept the line-caps, which is how I used to write all my poems, both structured and free verse.

So interesting to see how my approach to poetry has changed. Sometime I should print up everything I’ve written to date and just read through it. I can put everything that elicits a strong desire to vomit in one pile, in another all the poems that don’t seem to evoke much reaction at all, and in the golden pile the poems that still somehow move me, either as the author or as a revisiting reader. Maybe I could do something with that golden pile, like bind it up and pop it off to a few publishers. See what happens.

Well, here.

   Amelioration

            I sift
Through broken dreams
         They cut
Like shattered glass
      Slicing clean
            Deep
   Until the inner essence
Of this that I am
         Wells forth like blood
            From injured depths…
   The tattered remains
Of my dismal heart

            Most would recoil
Leave it be
         The shattered glass
      But…
         I cannot
For I remember…
            Remember…
   Vaguely remember
There was a time
      There was
When these broken bits
      Formed inspiring spectacles
   Of drifting dreams

            And so…
I rake my life
         Through broken glass
   Endlessly seeking
What might be salvaged
            Salvaged…
      From the shattered remains
Of long since shattered dreams

      Though gored and bloodied
            Somehow I know
         Despite the pain
   Gaping wounds hardly offered
            A chance to heal…
      My heart Knows
Slowly discovers
            That which may be reclaimed
      Among the fragments
Countless razor shards
         Shattered bits
   Of what once inspired
…And painstakingly builds
            With fragments reclaimed
      New dreams
New hopes

Posted on by EAT

Solace

This describes an actual event. I was a runaway at the time, barely 16 years old, traveling the highways. The cross is still there in Clifton, Arizona overlooking the little town. I visited the town in 2002 and took a walk along the ridge. The pit had been sealed. I asked the local people about the pit and learned that they sealed it up because too many people had met their death by chancing upon it unawares.

I’ll never forget that night or its lessons. My path has taken me away from Christianity, and I won’t ever be returning to it, but I remain true to what I learned that night, and I have built my life around what I gained that night.

Solace

It stood on a hill
Overlooking the town
Plain to view
For all to see
I saw it not
For I walked
Wandered
Sightless and blind
In my self-interest
 

It was night
When I wandered through
This lonesome desert town
And late
The shops closed
Even the drunkards
Coiled within their dens

Behind a shop
Against a hill
Stretched a mason wall
Behind which
I set my bed
For the night
And made ready
For sleep

Yet…..
As I lay there
Behind the wall
Fain to fall
Into my fitful slumber
I could not rest
My blood stirred within
Tensions rippled
Throughout my tired form

From the warmth
Of my bag
I looked up the hill
Rising there next to me
And felt a pull
Tugging within my chest
As a desire grew within me
To climb that hill
Who’s ridge
Faded into the night
Lost from sight

This tension within
This tug on my heart
Grew stronger still
Until
I could no longer
Hold my peace
Such as it was

Exasperated
I opened my bag
And climbed the hill
Into the night

Its ridge
Was easily reached
And stretched wide
Before dropping
Back into the dark
To the right
The ridge expanded
Disappearing from sight
As well to the left

I wanted desperately
To return
Back to my bag
And close my tired eyes
Drifting off
To my place of freedom
In the ever shifting realms

But…..
From the right
Along the ridge
I felt the beckoning…
My heart raced within
I felt unsure
Of this strange lure
Yet I walked
Along the ridge
Barely lit by the light
Of a crescent moon
Smiling serene
From the pinpricked depths

Along the ground
Dark shadows
Hid slight depressions
In the earth
Wherein I tread
With little thought given
Trusting to plant
Firmly
With my full weight
Each step
On solid earth

…And so I walked
Striding through shadows
Pooled in the ground
Phantom pits
Until all at once
I felt a grip
Cold within my chest
A warning
Screaming in my mind
Raising the hairs
Rigid on my neck
Sending throughout
All my form
A frozen chill
A phantom pit
Into which
I nearly tread
…Do not walk there

Before I thought to try
This shaded ground
My eye was caught
By a sight
Most unexpected

Not far from me
The ridge ended
And overlooked
The sleeping town
Nestled within
A meeting of canyons
And there
Where the ridge ended
Stood tall
Reflecting softly
What light there was
From the waning moon
A great wooden cross
Painted white

Chills shivered through me
My heart
Suddenly content
In beholding
The call
That brought me forth
From the warmth of my bag
From my much needed rest

What words could explain
The feelings within me
What words could express
That which I experienced

In that moment
I understood
He wanted me
To know
With certainty
He leads my heart
And has for me
A plan
I to this day
Can hardly fathom

And here
I walked around
That pooled shadow
And approached
Tentatively
Uncertain
The great cross
Only to find myself
Clinging to it
Crying
Expressing to him
Who called me here
All the fears
Dreads
Doubts
Desires
And every prayer
Of my heart
So deeply shrouded
In hopelessness

For long
There in the night
I clutched like a life-raft
A giant cross
That stood against
A darkling sky
Wind blowing
Wild into the dark…

Eventually
I let go
And sat against it
Peering down
Into the sleeping town
Just comforted
Assured
That no matter my doubt
He still loved me
No matter my shame
He still cherished me
No matter what
He will be there
Always there
Even on the darkest nights…

After a while
I returned
From whence I came
Coming again
Upon that depression
Like any other
Hidden in shadow

But rather than tread
Boldly into it
I carefully ventured
One foot forth
Into the shadow
And it found no rest
…This shadow
So like the rest
Concealed a pit
A real pit

Now shaking
I fumbled on the ground
Finding a stone
Which I tossed
Into the shadow before me
And heard not the echo
Of its landing
For nigh
Forty-five seconds

In that moment
I understood
Both the cross
And the deception
Of the shadows
From which his love
Has saved me