Saturday, November 27, 2010

Remember Me


All things testify according
to their natural, light-given truth:
leaves, twigs, meadows, and birds,
wild streams and errant tufts of fur,
dry weeds whispering remember me,
baked crust of aromatic earth.

I nod to the mossy water
conversing fortuitously in a ditch,
push back my hat, scratch my head,
wonder at the miracle of melted snow.

I rub dirty hands on threadbare jeans,
revel on bended knees to dig,
every inch a mile closer to myself,
past walls etched with veins of gold.

Summer speaks, autumn listens,
cold winter declares its grief.

When I care beyond my strength to know,
spring drags me out of bed,
makes rainbow tea,
butters my bread with sky.

I swallow the light and go outside.

In the wink of an eye,
my dreams no longer fit their shoes.

From Songs and Letters, originally published January 30, 2006.


Update:
In the Forum: close but no cigar.

13 comments:

all ways 11 o'clock said...

This is so very beautiful William. Every line a picture, an appreciation of where we are and and where we stand. A great first read for me this bright cold winter morning after the first snow. Thank you.

~robert

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Robert. And I could say “Every picture a line” to describe my visit to your blog this morning. Such intimate, glorious images.

jasmin said...

lieber William, ja absolut in den JAHRESZEITEN, man kann es auch so wollen, und dann geht es so, es gibt auch Positives, und Vertrautes bleibt, so wie sich die Erde dreht, denke ich, viele Grüße von Jasmin....

all ways 11 o'clock said...

Thank you William!

Joseph Hutchison said...

William, this is so abundant in beautiful subtleties that one can't help but read it multiple times. And even then the multiplicities keep appearing! One example: "When I care ... to know" and "When I care beyond my strength" and "When I care beyond my strength to know"—a line that turns like a diamond the mind....

Stickup Artist said...

If I could put my pictures to words this is what they would aspire to say. This is an absolutely glorious piece!

William Michaelian said...

Jasmin, thank you. Sometimes I feel like the earth is turning inside me. And in our journey around the sun, think how far we travel. It makes sitting still seem an illusion, almost.

You’re welcome, Robert!

Thanks, Joe. You have just such a mind, which, by your very observations, show the heart that informs and guides it.

Often, Stickup Artist, I think the silence you capture in your landscapes is beyond words, or that it has no need of them. But I am honored, and I thank you.

rahina q.h. said...

delightful poem, i enjoy these journeys with you in your head: they keep me slightly sane knowing that i'm not alone in talking to moss or snow;)

William Michaelian said...

Rahina, thank you. We are few, but we are dangerous.

Paul L. Martin said...

Beautiful and earthy, William, the echoes of farm life and history drip through every line. Thank you. You made my day.

William Michaelian said...

Paul, thanks. You remind me that this poem would not have been written if I hadn’t grown up on the farm and spent so many years working there and living that life. And, in all likelihood, it would not have been written if we had stayed.

Woman in a Window said...

and so the legacy?

the moment itself.

beautiful writing. how you grow ideas to burst and shape shift, is wonderful to me.

xo
erin

William Michaelian said...

I’ve planted trees, Erin. Perhaps you have too, or anything that grows. Ideas with leaves, branches, scaffolds.