The present, is it like performing a
recital piece? Or like the way one knits
a scarf? Lithe armor wards the cold away,
each link a piece of all the whole, no slits
to break the one long thread of notes or yarn.
So much the same, with yet a difference--
a song must not be stopped, must always yearn
inside each dancing now, the dissonance
of error slid from mind already drenched
in this next moment. Knitting is not so.
One old, forgotten stitch means long rows wrenched
to crimped string till the cloth is whole. Each soul's
agape with stitches dropped and melodies
and hunger for the hope that never dies.
A comparison I never would have thought of and brilliantly carried off. Do start submitting your work, dear heart! It speaks truth so beautifully.
ReplyDeleteDr. Impson, thank you! I feel so heartened that you see truth and beauty in my work. Sometimes I fear I have little to offer--but I think you are right that it is time to put fear aside and assail the publications again!
ReplyDeleteI agree with Dr Impson! Your work gives this reader a measure of hope that there is still (in this noisy and crazy old world!) a place for beauty, for humility, for a quiet reverence before life's mysteries.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your generous words, Thomas! I am so very glad you have been blessed by something I have written. I suppose, in some ways I am compelled to create, but encouragement like this lends me hope in the doing of it!
ReplyDeleteI know that present of a performance. That is why I never listen to recordings of performances, but only remember them; so as not to hear the dropped stiches. They are forgiven in the memory as in life. It is the presence that is remembered. The scarf is examined each time it is worn,so must be fixed; but the performance happens only once. It's magic blurrs the slight imperfections.
ReplyDeleteWhat a lovely way to put it, Newell, thanks!
ReplyDelete