Autumn, Western Larch highlights

 


 

Stone's Source, Part #II   /48

 


I do not choose to glorify

the cadences of the mind

which mirror the marching of boots

on cold pavement, or the songs

which cross borders at night,

transporting fear.

 

I do not choose to glorify

the tricks of the mind which

leave the body in uncompromising situations

across a landscape as bare as

Golgotha, behind bars of conscience

or steel, or littered across

a landscape of fear.

 

 I do not choose to glorify

the colors which draw us, all of us,

in our efforts to win

or to control,

or to steal, as the thief

steals in us, away before

dawn the imagination

into bright shadows where

we are strangers.

 

            I do not choose to glorify

that which I understand years later,

as age creeps through the crevice

of pain, as the landscape changes

because of our toil, as the

response of earth to ugliness

and destruction, and occasionally

a beautiful sunset. I sit there

 

now, but the view is blocked again,

the hour is late, and the sounds

of a falling sun only remind me

that I am here alone.

 

I do not choose to glorify

that which is not mine, as if belonging

could hold it, or ropes could tie it

or time could contain it, or soil

bury it, or the wind whisper it

through trees, as other secrets will

and other secrets won't.

 

I do not choose to glorify

the day which went through here with

such a fat lip, with such a promising

smile, with such a blank stare. I tried

to glorify them once, but they

snapped at me, wild dogs that they are

and I swore not to commit again the mistake

of not learning the first time.

 

I do not choose to glorify

what man builds if it has doors, if it has

no meaning but is simply the result of

plans, if it is not part of a dream,

one man's dream,

there in a place which can not be replaced

by any other, for the sake of it,

for the power of it, for the

glory of it.

 

I do not choose to glorify

what has not been spoken between

two persons, in a quiet way, under

the weight of care, carried with

the height of mountains, over

rivers which know no separation

even through time, along a ridge

which is not retraceable, over gray

matter or gray clouds if it is

that simple.

 

I do not choose to glorify

what can be described

simply

with words

 

unless those words themselves twine

it in, grow vine like from the flesh,

wrap it in a way about you

the smallest detail which is

forgotten,

which is replaced by experience,

which comes home to roost

like the birds which gather

in twilight,

 

friends, sharing the details.

 

I do not choose to glorify

that which is not glorious.


51

 


 


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