A quiet place time seeks
for us all.
A place where no man weeps;
no hungry childs voice a risen
torrent of a Mothers anguish;
no leacherous theft of sacred
parts souls can
lose to the wake of a
passing night.
A place of stillness, of
no mind where old bones no
longer care; collected; where age
continues on- a ceased concern.
A place of unknown in
previous curiosity;
a place where gods pretend;
a place lost of itself.
Everything once thought holy
this its place, in silence of a
quiet place, this no escape.
“A quiet place time seeks
for us all.”
This is a comforting vision. That I do not have to seek the quiet place but that it exists organically, waiting and seeking me. Yes.
“no hungry childs voice a risen
torrent of a Mothers anguish”
This is part of why I love your writing. You do not just tell us the child is crying, you show us what the crying means in a way that has no home in abstract metaphors. Yes, this is it.
“where age
continues on- a ceased concern.”
I am going to find this place!
The thought that rest, meditation, aloneness or time for soul is a luxury an escape, as un-needed haunts me in my work place and this poem is a place where the gods must pretend because this place is not an escape: it is the reality of center.
Thank you Ian,
Kim
I loved this website, even though i didn’t look at it at all…
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