I Stay​
 
I stay.
But it isn’t as if
There wasn’t always Hudson’s Bay
And the fur trade.
–Robert Frost, ‘An Empty Threat’

But you never had it planned.
Then the trail wasn’t yet blazed
As the First Nations moved 
Through without leaving a sign
For the First Settlers to follow–
And yet they never gave it away,
The invisible gathering place
Stretching without a trace
Too vague for a castaway–
I stay.
 
Only shards are found
On these islands, anyway.
You don’t mention where you are
Or have been anymore.
You cast your line into the surf
On a beach below the cliff–
There’s already been enough trouble
You think, getting to this point.
The Muse’s words linger–If,
But it isn’t as if…
 
It seems centuries since
Another refugee cleared a field near
The far shore scattered with dead fish.
He sometimes told of bones plowed up
But he didn’t say where they are–
He had trouble enough, enough hearsay
To bury the unmarked graves
Without the rattlesnakes and arrowheads. 
And when he’d been drinking, he’d say
There wasn’t always Hudson’s Bay–

And long ago he didn’t stay; and
Others came through and moved west,
Leaving a faded blazed trace
For scribes of hieroglyphs 
Or petroglyphs on the riverbanks.
Long-haul truckers masquerade
As sleepless pioneers throwing clouds
Of dust as fine as ash across the feral fields–
Unsettled again, and again renegade,
And with the fur trade.

Speak For Yourself
Speak for yourself, John Alden.
— Henry Wadsworth Longfellow, The Courtship of Miles Standish
1
Ley Lines —

Seasons of mist and brine,
The scent of spring in the cold–

A quiet cove where the locals
Curl inside a chambered nautilus,

A Palladian colonnade built around
An old stone cenotaph —

I have no will, just a wish:
Saltwater bays where I can slip anchor

And drift unseen, unnoticed
Under a smuggler’s moon,

Bearing contraband relics
From a faraway cay,

No blind response, no backward
Look, no ravening recognition.

The past changes with the future
Driving past remains of the Marie Celeste

Or the grander experiments
Of the Titanic or the Hindenburg.

Slowly we become no one
With no trailing embers

That lead you to a dying inferno
Which the stars are, even the sun

Which will become a black hole
Storing memories of millennia.

2
Soundings

Sailing without water, you dream
That darkness waits in desert islands,

Hidden rivers and lunar tides
And unknown undercurrents stream

Into oases’ pools reflecting a turquoise moon
Emerging among the vast flowing dunes.

As thundering breakers still pour jade foam
Over indigo seas, echoing beneath high bluffs–

Punctuated by the cries of seabirds driven inland
On a shoreward gale reshaping the coast.

And you, should you search beneath fragments
Of memoirs for the lost songs that water makes,

Raise anchor, as an hourglass pours sand
Into sand, before setting sail for timeless seas.

3
Listen…

Listen. Thunder rumbles offshore.
Seabirds wheel in before the storm.

And the seasons shift against a dark plain
Of half-truths, putting the past to rest

As easily as we retrace our steps
Into the new snow, that itself melts away–

You brush away the debris of grief
Misplacing comfort for belief,

Stoking the last gleaming embers
Of last evening’s winter blaze.

Teach us a treason to ourselves
In the battle between love and fear,

You resist returning again —
The river skim ice has already melted,

The air tangible, electric,
Gathering cold gusts–

Leave the timeless
For your children’s children

To paint the great migrations
In the flickering light of sacred caves.

And though past the last step is space,
Where your deep breath is exhaled–

John Alden rests his case,
Speak for yourself, Priscilla.

Featured Image: “Melting of river ice 1950” by Voutilainen Erkki under the Creative Commons Attribution 4.0 International license.

AGENT OF CHANGE

During the Winter
Of your discontent
You crave
The warm embrace of Spring,
Knowing it will fade away to
The scintillating heat
Of Summer
But you need not worry.
No!
Because you know
Every hot Summer
Gives way to the
Coolness of Autumn

But as the seasons change,
So do you.
You think
You feel
You do
You ask yourself,
“Who am I?”
“What is my purpose
In life?”
When you ask these questions,
You expect a response,
But none is given

Poverty often denies you access
To prosperity
Each time, she asks,
“Can you spare a dime?”
You look into her blood-shot eyes,
And your shared silence becomes
A clarion call

You hear voices,
Those of the great African kings
Speaking to you
You hear the rhythmic beat of drums,
Encouraging you to dance
This is your moment,
Your chance to shine.
But do you change or
Do you remain the same?

Heroes have come.
Heroes have gone
But now you are being asked
To be something more
No one is asking you
To change the world
Change a life
And bear witness to the
Rippling effects
Of your sacrifice

 

THE WISE MAN SAY

Move forward then upward,
That’s what the Wise Man say
He said do this daily
And you won’t lose your way
But that’s just what you did
In the Spring of eighty-eight
For you found yourself carrying
A tremendous weight 

Dreams of Olympic glory,
Adoring fans calling your name
But your ailing body
Disqualified you from the game
You had to find something different,
Something new
You had to behave differently
To say that you grew

But grew you did
You had no choice
First in your family
To heed the Wise Man’s voice
His voice was loud,
His voice was clear
You felt his presence,
Drew the invisible him near

Clouds of doubt, uncertainty
And regret hovered overhead
Sinking feelings that could only
Be described as impending dread.
You know why this feeling
Inhabits your soul
Anxiety, depression,
Taking a toll

Roll, Daddy, roll
Like never before
Step into a future
That is bright, not a bore
Forward then upward
The Wise Man say
To keep this train a moving
You have to bow your head,
pray

Pray for blessings
From the man seated on high
When you receive these blessings
You aren’t supposed to cry
But when you do
Reflect on the road traversed,
Receiving the many blessings,
Never believing you were cursed

The Wise Man stands on the horizon
Marveling at all you have done
To overcome obstacles
To stand in the sun
He winks his eye
Only you can see
You bow at the waist
Thanking him,
Then God,
For this victory

At the apex of Achievement
You gain wisdom and sight
For you now know obstacles
Are there for knowledge, might
But you must extend your hand
To the hungry, the lost
Pull them up gently,
Remove them from the frost

Featured image: “A Collection of Ethiopian Liturgical Drums” by A. Davey under the Creative Commons Attribution 2.0 Generic license.