It has been many, many, many moons since I wrote my last ghazal poem. In fact, seeing as this blog serves as an archive/portfolio of my poetry, it’s easy to discover just when that was, exactly—December of 2012. Just about one month shy of 10 years.
Well, here it is:
the past
Once again these haggard bones and thews relive the past.
It seems no matter where I roam, I’ll never leave the past.
Your words, they still reecho up ravines and canyon walls
where aspirations reach like peaks, but not above the past.
However far our dreams may sprawl—however high they rise—
they come and go. And in the end, we merely weave the past.
A belching mire—hidden deep in mist—gave birth to all,
so everything that lives and grows is forced to grieve the past.
I found an alpine vale where I could fill my lungs with peace,
still shadows rise unwelcome guests—and I receive the past.
The road behind me stretches back and fades into a storm
that rumbles such uncertainty I scarce believe the past.
A soul fragmented by neglect, abuse, and bitterness
may find a way to live awhile, but won’t survive the past.
Unearthing ruins from memory may lead to understanding—
Yet you may also raise a corpse if you revive the past.
I know I’m owed a debt that even lifetimes can’t repay.
But, if I’ll ever thrive today, I must forgive the past.
Put down the seats and open up the moon roof—breathe a while.
The stars are out with yet another message, “Waive the past.”
So, yes, “the past.” It’s been doing a bit of haunting the last few months. I suppose it would be more accurate to say it’s been doing a lot of haunting all my life. So much of it is lost to me, hidden somewhere beyond my powers of recall. And yet it continues to bear influence on my daily life, my state of mind, my approach to relationships, everything.
As I contemplated this reality, a few lines came to mind that I felt could work within the ghazal structure, and so I finally had something to start tapping into this document that’s been sitting open on my last 3 laptops for the past 8 years. Yes, as in opened every single time I restarted the system, and without content that entire time—until now, that is. This is now my 135th ghazal.
There’s a lot of writing I would like to be doing—a lot of ideas I’d like to explore. But finding the time and energy for this has been difficult. A few months ago I bought a laptop that seems to be helping. I’ve gone through a few laptops and tablets over the past several years in search of the right writing and research tool. Turns out that—aside from dealing with sleep apnea, wonky biochemistry, my wife’s cancer, raising a kid, and working a full-time job—one big challenge I’ve struggled with is the ergonomics of typing and research, just sitting at and using a computer.
This laptop has an eraser mouse, which I thought had vanished from the earth close to 2 decades ago. And having a laptop with an eraser mouse I think has helped bring back a little inspiration and drive to write over the past few months because there’s so much less ergonomic strain involved. Still, time and energy are ever at a premium.
