where did you go (poetic friday, week two)

I want to send you off to the weekend in the joy of good words, and the better silence before and between and after them. I want to send you off with some of the sounds that paint the world in consonants and vowels. So on Fridays, I’ll ramble a bit, and share a poem I’ve found and loved throughout the week.

So, my rambling:

Where did you go? 

Russia, in summer.

I drank and prayed against cool marble, tattered flags rippled like ghosts.

Kentucky in late May,

stung by bees and swarmed by banjos.

Antarctica in the heat of a broken heart,

sweetly cold and quiet.

A thousand places, and none.

I am always and never here,

flung through life, set free

to wander, lost, away.

But if you asked, Russia

or Kentucky or Antarctica with my bleeding heart

were the same:

here.

And a poem for your weekend, from Theodore Roethke:

In a dark time, the eye begins to see,
I meet my shadow in the deepening shade;
I hear my echo in the echoing wood–
A lord of nature weeping to a tree,
I live between the heron and the wren,
Beasts of the hill and serpents of the den.What’s madness but nobility of soul
At odds with circumstance? The day’s on fire!
I know the purity of pure despair,
My shadow pinned against a sweating wall,
That place among the rocks–is it a cave,
Or winding path? The edge is what I have.

A steady storm of correspondences!
A night flowing with birds, a ragged moon,
And in broad day the midnight come again!
A man goes far to find out what he is–
Death of the self in a long, tearless night,
All natural shapes blazing unnatural light.

Dark,dark my light, and darker my desire.
My soul, like some heat-maddened summer fly,
Keeps buzzing at the sill. Which I is I?
A fallen man, I climb out of my fear.
The mind enters itself, and God the mind,
And one is One, free in the tearing wind.

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