Survivors

Survivors

Monday, March 3, 2014

This night has blinded me


©  Steve King
All rights reserved

This night has blinded me.
Now must I seek another way
to have you:  a reflection shining,
bright prelude to all desires;
faint vibration of a lyric
to carry music of your instrument,
spirits of that old song calling,
only lacking your lips, tongue.

I have visions yet:
your eyes drawing me inward,
beacons on a quick advancing shore
even as the clouds cover me there,
heaving in the hold
of each relentless wave,
even as that haven slips from sight,
even as you render yourself free
from the enfolding tides,
offering faint note of what may come.

I gather you for now,
as tightly as may be,
while we are still something—
though never have we been
just one of that...

And all the restive dreams
are caught up as a damning retrospect:
pictures that must stand for you and me;
quaint figurines posed just so,
ready through the night’s eternity
to whirl a-dance;
all the while that other world waits new
the dawning of less gentling memories.


A post for Imaginary Gardens…
http://withrealtoads.blogspot.com/

15 comments:

  1. Full of haunting images which hover just beyond understanding of everyday thoughts. A poem from 'otherwhere'...

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  2. there is a mystique to this that promoted foggy images and visions dancing on the edges....

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  3. This feels for me like a soft and subtle record of the corrosion of time, the dissolve of what seems stone and is sand.yet still is a castle, a cloud castle even, higher than a stone one could ever be. Your italicized stanza is especially powerful, a reverie, an epitaph, a poem in itself as love is a poem in our lives, which we may finish, yet return to reread, and in so doing, remember more than we once knew we had. An excellent piece, Steve, and full of the reflective mood that age and the season seems to bring.

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  4. Love the images and how you use the verbs in a quaint way to describe the reverie of love...~ feel the gentleness of every word...thanks

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  5. Very beautiful, evokes a feeling of expectation and hopefulness, at the very edge of love......poised to plunge in.

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  6. sometimes it is "the maybes" that keep us going.

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  7. To me this is about loss, the wanting for someone who is gone. Do we remember these things accurately? Probably not. But then, there is poetry.

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  8. Yearning desire threads through the entire piece. The images are shadowy, elusive.

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  9. So beautiful...we live on maybe and hope so often

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  10. The repetition here speaks so to the sense of desire that fills this piece--really gorgeous imagery throughout

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  11. Steve, I don't think I saw this one before. It is so interesting. I feel almost as if it is the moon speaking, or one speaking to the moon, but I keep thinking of physicists' theories of parallel universes, and here the moon is moving on. Or maybe it is even a star or something whose light is still coming, but it has burned out--I am sorry not to be clearer--I find it compelling even in my own lack of clarity and the whirl-a-dance of retrospect and the less gentling memories quite a wonderful close. I may be completely off base, but I cannot help but think of the geology of all of this with "less gentling." Anyway, much enjoyed. k.

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    1. Karin, I think it's just a matter of someone losing his or her other, and the recognition of it dawning on him. Perhaps an unwieldy title. Thanks for stopping by.

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