Trying to Understand Is Worth It
i see it as i wander by…
the world is beautiful and sad,
i see it as i wander by;
the good things that we want – so bad –
our reason – just an alibi –
the aching heart will know no peace;
the tired soul will find no rest —
the world is beautiful, but sad:
our worst is so mixed up in
all our best
An autumn evening.
But a brief moment the sunset lasts
With a growing chorus of crickets then
Comes the dark
Across the bayou, lights I start to see;
And I hear from far away the sounds
Of the distant high school football game
Autumn wraps its arms around me
Sitting on the side of a hill
Looking at the shadows and lights on the water
Feeling the breeze blow my hair
And a faint smell of wood-smoke is in the air
And the scent brings strong memory
As though reliving moments in the flesh
And not merely in thought
Of bygone days spent by the bayshore
Of your golden hair catching the last rays of sunset
Occasionally, a car goes by
And I watch the headlights trailing off
Around the bend
And life, or at least my life, this life
Has unity
(Photo by me. Originally Posted 11-14-2015. – Owen)
Rebecca always hated me
I know, because she said:
And if I passing, spoke to her
I might as well be dead
For all the interest she would show.
But I would always try:
And she might glance up from her book
Or not, as I went by.
But then, one day, she spoke to me
And asked me if I had
A copy of Persuasion
She could borrow for a tad
I said I did, and brought it on
The very next of days;
Rebecca took it with a glance
That turned into a gaze
“You like me, Owen, don’t you?”
I did not know what to say —
“Well, don’t. Because I don’t like you,”
And so I went away
But lo, the years have gone
And I now see what I mistook –
Rebecca
If you’re out there —
Can I have
My fricking book?
The morning wakes upon the hill,
The moon awaits me in the glen;
I set out with a frozen will
To talk to you again.
The world is just a funeral fire,
A ceremony of remorse;
And still I’m climbing, ever higher,
Set upon this course —
I asked you for forgiveness once;
You set about it with good grace –
But you’ve been gone, and now your ghost
Moves softly through this place
Of missing leaves, and morning mist.
Mid echoes of intention,
I take the path that upward lies
Defying such convention
As would dictate a different course.
I knew you back when love was life;
And life was not enframed by death
And peace was not entombed in strife.
We can’t recapture innocence —
For once it’s gone, it’s gone for good,
And all our striving, in a sense,
Is just so much misunderstood
By others; and by (often) us.
How can it be the trees still know?
They lose their splendor; still, they stand.
And every single path will show
The wisdom of the rocks and trees,
The solemn beauty in the soil;
Where love is not some rash disease,
But more like liberty in toil –
To live, to grow: these are our days –
To strive to know as many ways
To scale the hills as we can find:
And integrate the body-mind
Into the whole ’twas meant to be.
Whether on mountainside or fen —
As morning wakes upon the hill,
And moon awaits us in
The glen
You cannot bring the dream alive
By dreaming it again
You cannot change the past
Into the things it might have been
You cannot oust reality
For phantasms instead
You cannot live life looking back
When there’s still life
Ahead
(“You Cannot -” – 9-2-2014)
I saw her waiting in the lobby
Nervously, expectantly;
Looking out the giant window
Framed by its immensity
Who she was I do not know, and
Never will, now, I suppose:
But the seekers, lookers, waiters —
I belong
To such
As those
(“Snapshot: Passing By A Woman In The Hotel Lobby” – 12-10-2014)
Half-frozen mud, cold bracing air
A wind that makes my neck aware
That leaves torn from the tree will die
These poor gray strays who tumble by
And like the ghostly light I seek
The morn recedes behind the line
Only of chance to risk a peek
At drifting lives
Like yours
And mine
(“Aware” – 11-19-2014)
