Perennial II
“May it be a light to you in dark places, when all other lights go out.”
― J.R.R. Tolkien, The Fellowship of the Ring
rain has returned to the foothills of the Catskill Mountains
the skies weep for the end:
the end of June
the end of this metaphysical moment
together in written form–
beautiful;
call and response
“you?”
“me?”
“us?”
we.
thirty–
thirty days
(almost) thirty nights—
thirty nights if you count the 31st before June 1st
delivered more than an empathetic heart (that mirrors another)
can hold;
storms brewing
clouds drifting
waves breaking
moon(s) rising
Milky Way swirling
earth spinning
soul stirring
euphoria.
it’s a wish granted in time that the gods have provided
–one would say the timing is too late,
and another would say, it’s happening now and in real time, as it should–
how could the wish-maker know then:
written on composition notebook paper
after a devastating heartache
placed in a wooden box with sunflower carvings
gifted from a friend who blessed it with incantations from an ancient ritual–
is happening in real time:
decades later, without warning
reigniting embers from a dim burn to a full, magnificent inferno
setting ablaze primal instincts
passion, and raw desire,
to melt the icy refrain long echoed along Saturn’s spinning rings
and the one who wished could not believe this truth
but it is not up to truth to decide its might;
in wicker chairs
in throaty voices
in perennial permissions
in wistful whispers
on printed pages curling in the breeze
on lectern spine pressing tome spine
in envious waves crashing against the shore
in photos that do not yet exist becoming exposed out of frame,
it simply exists, as we do
now
in this finite eternity–
the time is (de) constructed
the time that constrains
the time that is a curse and a treasure
like poems that etch themselves beneath skin
and become the balm for aching bones
to rest in summer’s light,
to bury itself beneath autumn’s crisp colors,
to sleep soundly in winter’s snowy cover,
to rejuvenate in spring’s warmth knowing
that truths:
in belief
in hope
in desire
in all that is what it means to exist here,
now
will transcend time
and keep hurricane lanterns flickering in the darkness
for those kindred spirits sailing
in ghost ships, in seas forgotten,
for those kindred spirits sailing
in ghost ships, in seas forgotten,
to look to and to know
belief
hope
desire
existence here that is real–
always.
23 thoughts on "Perennial II"
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“I’m not ready”
– Tennant’s Doctor Who, at the end
Will say more when I’m able.
But not yet.
I’m sorry.
Fair. No apologies necessary.
Okay. Sorry. Collected myself and…I want this to timestamp itself…timely.
I went outside and there was heavy cloud cover. My Moon was just visible over in the skies above the houses in our neighborhood. Below Her, silent, amber lightning flashed in the far distance. But in my mind, it was nearly green—green like Gatsby’s light across the bay. But the lightning was silent. So silent. And subsumed by birds that think it is already dawn at 5 a.m.
You could say that poets/INFPs/Pisces Moons are melodramatic. You could say it. That we make important, vital, notable, special, too much of…things like this. You could say it.
But then there are wakings from dreams at the same time that she replies to your poem.
And there is this weird phenomenon in the sky.
And there are these words that a woman at the foot of the Catskills, a lifetime away, has written for him, in what I think (though I am of course far too close to see clearly, and too far away to know in her eyes to be true) is the pinnacle of her writing, that he’s seen to date.
There are so many things, more, I want to say and don’t know how to translate from emotion to English.
Only just…I’m not ready.
And that I took video of the skies and will post it on my facebook. For any with access to see.
And believe as I do.
Until, I guess, next year, H—
Until next year……
You could say that it is June. Joseph, your talents and depths reach uncharted, unparalleled spaces. A writer, a person of your caliber, generously sharing so much time and care is a gift I will always treasure.
Thank you for all of it. One breath to hold until next year’s return.
🖤🫂
💕
“So say what you want, Dear,
But the courage was won
In the way that you spoke, here,
When the dreaming was done.”
— Dermot Kennedy, in “A Closeness”
A beautiful lyric. Although, I humbly offer a counter: dreaming is never done.
Wishing you cool breezes and much deserved rest.
(now)
now
(now)
Depends on upon to which plane of existence you speak. *sigh*
Not my post to reply to but…
What she said 😏😉😌
i meant it more like
words to say–
layered on every
inhale (exhale)–
one syllable per breath.
enjoy the rapid movement in the poem
Thank you, Gaby. 💕
I’ve enjoyed
your ethereal
searching probing
poems
this month
Thank you, Jim. Thoigh, I must confess, their creations have been largely assisted by other poets, one in particular. To say that I was pushed and challenged and delighted in the best of ways would be a total understatement. I unearthed pieces of myself (in writing) that have been buried for too long.
I appreciate that you and others have read, commented, and enjoyed. I only hope to see what beauty next June holds.
Love:
and keep hurricane lanterns flickering in the darkness
for those kindred spirits sailing
in ghost ships, in seas forgotten,
to look to and to know
Thank you, Pam. It’s a special image. I’m so glad you enjoyed it. 💜
Hey, Babe.
Just wanted to come back one more time and correct an injustice: I told you that I thought this poem rose to pinnacle for you, but I didn’t say how. Or why. Or even utter a “thank you” for this and this month. All that was felt, but I was awash, as you know. I’m sorry.
Briefly: The circular return of the title (perfect bookend to my original admission). The epigraph, Galadriel’s phial holding a bit of Eärendil’s star—such a perfect allusion, both for my love of that film and its application (what I do and will carry, as long as the Evenstar is not available to give). The Call and response. The images of her as a child. The return to each missive (that feels more right than saying poem now). The longer sentences followed by fragment lines, like a list poem. For me, personally, the repetition of belief, hope, desire. So many luminous excerpts and lines and phrases, but emotionally…the tenor and truth of
“will transcend time
and keep hurricane lanterns flickering in the darkness
for those kindred spirits sailing
in ghost ships, in seas forgotten,
to look to and to know”
I carry them all.
And shall.
And I hope you listen to that song; my piece is nearly as in communication with it as it was with yours. One I’ve adored for years but belongs to you now.
Wanted to close the month on these more positive reactions and replies.
Til June, dear.
Til June.
Columbo “one more thing”: The emboldening of this Truth in the way these last two pieces, both unknowingly, so very mirrored one another, in so many tiny ways.
Great minds and hearts think alike.
Many thanks, Joseph. No apologies are necessary. I am so glad you enjoyed the epigraph, and the month’s creative collections.
I appreciate that you enjoyed that particular section most. I had thr image in my mind and tried to craft it as I saw it. I think that happened. Always a cool surprise when it does.
I will give the song a listen. Maybe this evening when I should be writing.
Thank you. For this kind message. For your beautiful poems. For this month. For everything.
Til June. 🌼
One breath.
It’s already now.