Yesterday, burgeoning in the meadow
white blossoms on greening branches
birdsong at daybreak
Earth spinning in its orbit
all distractions from pain and passing time,
regrets and remembrance of loss.
Today, reading under grey skies
I saw the lines
“Bowed down she was with weariness”
I heard a distant train whistle
a church bell chiming five
lobster boats setting out to raise up the traps
all arrows piercing through
my small morning pleasures.
By the sea I am but it's raining.
“drizzle” I calls it.
I like the sound of “drizzle,”
“plaintive, “mournful.”
Once I believed “there would be time enough"
“tomorrow and tomorrow and tomorrow.”
Was it all for naught?
It must be the pain.
If not for its darkness--
the brighter light of reason
But the window of perception is clear.
I see through—
The arrows hit their mark.
It was all for naught.
Bowed down I am with weariness.
Prometheus chained, and I too--
bound to a rock of my own making
blossoms, falling rain
church bells and lobster traps
mournful memories
Tide rushing in
caught in the torrent
deluge to drown in
Then, from the bell tower—seven chimes
The rain has stopped
No birds sing
Earth still spinning in its orbit
Where will I lay my head?
Where will I leave my heart?
What will I leave behind?
Where will I row my little boat lost in the darkness?
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