A dear friend of mine suggested I share this with everyone. I know I'm supposed to leave you laughing but occasionally I have the need to share something more personal, closer to my soul. The non de plume will be familiar to you I think and now you will know from whence it came. You will also see the date, so those who know me will also know I have reinvented myself since then. Still, spellbound lives always, right below the surface....
SPELLBOUND
I ran again in dreams last night, my feet not touching the ground
Barefooted through the clover field
Between the house where my grandmother lived and my own
Back when I was a light princess, free from gravity,
a time traveler headed for the marvels of tomorrow.
Waking I find that it is dark and windy
and I am held to earth by a string so thin and worn
That any minute it may break and I will be tossed and blown without control.
Again today I take precautions
So the wind will not lift me
Gathered many sweet and madding weights
and glued them fast onto my frame
and while my voice protests confinement
I've sealed all my escapes with bricks and
Trapped myself here inside protection
So I cannot float away
or even move.
Winter 2003
What a beautiful poem you have written about the different stages of life. I hope you write even more.
ReplyDeleteMonty
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ReplyDeleteThank you and of course I will, as I have no choice. Sharing is always the issue, giving up little bits of my soul.
ReplyDeleteThis was beautifully written.
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Spellbound,
ReplyDeleteSometimes you have to let go of the weights that ground you in order to fly. Only when you lose yourself do you really find yourself again.
Beautiful poem.
Yes my dear wings, you see it clearly. I started my first blog in 2004, but these words came from the lowest point of my life. I began a journey then that will not be finished until I am dust. It is rather like the ventures our forefathers took across the great plains, dropping off non essentials along the way, here a chest of drawers, here the rocking chair, and then the silver teapot. I have honed it down now to only things that are practical to carry on the road, but I have not quite found the promised land. Maybe tomorrow, maybe never, but i am enjoying the traveling much more these days.
ReplyDeleteWe make our own prisons-encasing ouselves behind thick walls. I am glad you are breaking free, letting yourself fly.
ReplyDeleteOr at least headed in that direction Brook. When I can go out on the dance floor sober and whirl as unselfconscious as Evie I will be truly free.
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