I am not currently working on any project poems, and I don’t plan to start one any time soon. Hopefully this means my mental space will be freed up for more spontaneous writes such as this:
The Seekers
For as long as I can remember
I’ve watched them grope,
fumbling through dark places
over jagged, uneven surfaces.
I’ve watched them wander long
grey corridors, faces gaunt,
shoulders slouching faded sighs,
feet reechoing short, tired scuffs.
I’ve seen their distorted figures
through stain glass windows, heads
bowed, arms raised, faces creased
with longing for the slightest sign.
I’ve even seen them half concealed
by timbers on their way to peaks
and rivers to seek out some hidden
solace, some priceless psychic gem.
But, somehow I think it’s up there,
slipping between the stars, bits
and pieces sometimes flaring bright
streaks of insight within the night.
This was sparked more by a feeling than a thought. The feeling was invoked by a poem I read in a Facebook group, though I can no longer recall the poem or what it was about. Four of the five stanzas actually formed very quickly, but it didn’t feel finished, so I put it aside for a while. This was a few months back.
Recently I looked at it again and just kind of knew where and what the missing stanza should be and then it was done. Funny how that works.
