Saturday, October 2, 2010

Canvas 98

“Canvas 98”
October 2, 2010

[click to enlarge]

To confront death and embrace darkness and light at every turn, to know and cherish defeat, to bless the sorrow I have endured and will surely seek again, to feel blindly through the veil of knowledge, to wonder at this earth and watch as it claims limb after limb, to be grief and ash, to be dangerously, deliciously alone, to be scorned and ignored, to be driven out, hated, and hung, to be innocent and at the same time a thief, to be counted, to help, to need, and to love, to dwell in myth and bring forth as fable, to say for others what they cannot or have not yet learned to say for themselves, to be dreadfully mistaken and woefully unaware, to be instructed by the wise and the insane, perfectly designed for all of these things, this ship, this sea, these hands, these bellows and chambers that could fail at any moment leaving the mind to grab at straws, to linger as words like the sweet smoke of one last idea, to suddenly know flight, to grow as mist and be as determined as a handful of soil — here lies, and I had only just begun.


ALeks said...

Wonderful epitaph on someones tombstone! Lovely drawing to go with it!

Paul L. Martin said...

Wonderful, wonderful poetry in prose, two posts in a row. I love this, William, pure and simple. You inspire me.

William Michaelian said...

Thank you, Aleksandra! All we need is a tombstone large enough, or carving small enough, so the entire passage will fit. Or maybe halfway through, it could say “continued on other side”....

Paul, thank you too. Your words are music to my ears, and they arrive at just the right time.

ALeks said...

No stone large enough for your mighty words my friend so,till the other side than!! Warm hugs from me!
you carved your passage well in your drawing,that is the rock which we all can call our stone,to start with building a house or a chimney first,than a house!! :O)

William Michaelian said...

What a graveyard it would be, with stones like these... really, I find the image appealing; or a little village of stone houses, each house with its own expression...

ALeks said...

But thats how i see Earthly peoples villages these days,mostly of stones,under the water or covered by moss deep in the woods.....beautiful disguise for peoples Earthly graveyards!!We are dieing each day a little bit more and strangely call that life!! :O)
Im sleepless again,dont mind me ranting around,it will pass....

Gary B. Fitzgerald said...


I rise each day and find these trees
stand exactly where they did the day before,
stood unafraid in a darkened wood
through the cold and empty hours
to welcome in a new day’s pearly light.
But each day, it seems, I also find another
who has ventured past that unseen door,
has left us, we can only pray,
for something good and something more
and something less than standing through the night.

Proud these trees stood still when we returned
from the solemn procession and burial,
on a day of tears and a last goodbye, of dying flowers,
the lifting of a polished hardwood casket.
And though weary when returning from the funeral,
I take time tonight to walk beside the wood
and of these hardwood trees and life I ask it:
where stand and how grow until the day it’s I
who, dressed in hardwood, awaits a morning bright?

Copyright 2008 – HARDWOOD-77 Poems, Gary B. Fitzgerald

William Michaelian said...

Hello, Gary, master of the eloquent, timely response. Your poem changes with the light and becomes, ever more deeply, itself.

Aleksandra, night owl, you see so well, even in the dark.