Survivors

Survivors

Tuesday, March 5, 2013

The Pedestrian


by Steve King
©  2013
All rights reserved

Her eyes, and only those,
out of all the others on the street—
held distant in the depth of thought,
cold as stars,
caught up in a fastness out of reach,
so very far from words,
focusing on nothing
as they passed.

I wondered if it was for me alone
to feel a sadness there.

Though I have sometimes tried,
I have never been the one to answer why—
why there must be sadness in the world,
or why it should have gathered on our street,
crying out through all contingent cares;
why it should have settled as it did,
this alone of every near despair,
prisoned in the confines of that soul,
reaching through the windows of those eyes.

Nor had I consolation for those eyes.
I inflected only
the ordeal of witness
all the while the darkness passed,
a current coursing quickly
through quieter tides,
brushing at the stream
of unsensed travelers
moving close beside.
There was nothing to allay
the hold of sadness,
no word to wrest a gladness from the air,
no way to touch that trouble,
or amend brooding care.

I wondered of the troubles
caught up in the train
of that determined step,
now hurrying away;
so quick, but such a silly race to run:
as if a trouble might be just a thing
to be abandoned and undone—
discretionary destiny
whose ending might be forfeited
without regard for how it had begun.

As if a sadness might be satisfied
by quick exits and hard designs—
or simply by the click of heels
beating out the tattoo
of some unrelieved goodbye.

14 comments:

  1. This is heavy and dense and beautiful writing. So many perfectly turned phrases here, but I think my favorite is "the ordeal of witness."

    Just brilliant.

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  2. This definitely kept me engaged til the very last word. Superb writing man, I could feel the tension building and rising as the piece carried along. This was definitely heart felt

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  3. the close made me think of dorothy...clicking her heals....wanting to go home...really cool capture...that you see it, the sadness in the eyes of another says much....why it has to come...i wish only it hadnt but then again i dont know that eutopia would be much fun either...really cool piece steve...

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  4. why there must be sadness in the world,
    or why it should have gathered on our street,
    crying out through all contingent cares;
    why it should have settled as it did...
    I have asked myself the very same questions. This is an intense and beautiful write.

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  5. Sadness digs deep and tends to linger... it's not easily distracted.

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  6. This weldschmerz we feel at times...for others, for ourselves...like misted ships passing in the night. A beautiful and sensitive write, Steve!

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  7. I enjoyed this examination of the psyche in motion, Steve--the sadness so universal, seems always unique to each who bears the burden, and each has a different way of coming to terms with it--though some never really seem to do anything but run, as you point out here. (I drive people away from my blog by writing about it, personally. ;_) ) Some lovely lines of reflection in this; I esp like
    "...as if a trouble might be just a thing
    to be abandoned and undone—
    discretionary destiny
    whose ending might be forfeited
    without regard for how it had begun..."

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  8. these are some beautiful phrases to pour over.
    I am particularly taken by your opening.
    caught up in a fastness out of reach.
    wonderful.

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  9. I enjoyed your musings on sadness, specially the last two stanzas ~ Beautiful writing Steve ~

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  10. I think there must be sadness in the world so that we can also appreciate happiness. If all was ONLY happy, would we even know it? But, apart from that, I think your poem made some valid points and asked good questions!

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  11. Sadness, like happiness, comes from within. To be able to understand why someone feels what they do would be nearly impossible unless you had been in their shoes, experienced what they had; but to be sensitive enough to be touched by their sadness makes for a truly caring person indeed. I love how you explored the questions, the helplessness, all the aspects of this encounter with your words. Nicely penned, Steve.
    (FYI--didn't share last week or this, but stopping by to read some my favorites.)

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  12. This is wonderful, wouldn't if be nice if we could walk away from sadness, leave it there on the pavement all cold and alone?

    Great images, so soulful and mournful and filled with truth.

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  13. Wonderful, Steve--I especially like the way you use the train of the step--the enjambement there, and in general the terrible poignancy of nothing to allay the hold of sadness in the air. k.

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  14. Walk a mile on uneven pavement in her high heels, Steve. You'll be sad, too.

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