(written
for my students of Creative Writing 1A, 1983)
Shells
Along
the shore I see them ranged in rows
A
random grouping; lines not straight, in piles
And
clusters, clotted moist and deep with sand.
Each
is unique, their colors glowing, real--
Such
vibrant sea-pink, violet, coral, white--
A
panoply of beauty, delicate, ethereal, translucent
And
all, dead.
Their
empty sides reflect diluted light,
Their
colors fleeting, fading, dim and die
The
while they cling to stretch of barren shore
As
if their essence welded to the sand...
Almost
as if the seaweed could return,
Regenerate,
grow roots, and with a drop
Of
water, not so salt as sad, revive
That
life which once they held and nurtured safe.
Within
lies water, sullen, rank and dead,
No
longer wedded to the dancing sea,
But
bitter dregs of that which gave them life.
What
parable is here to dwell upon?
What
question rings against their hollow sides,
And
shouts its message to the lonely shore?
Just
this...when they were yet alive, and full
Of
creatures, each within and each alone,
Each
lonely creeping road crawled safe and staid,
Some
anchored to the stones which held their lives,
Some
floating in the eddies of the sea.
At
will of wind and wave, none chose a path,
But
only moved, all purposeless and vague.
Now,
shells dishabited, they lie and wait
For
what, they know not..but they gleam and glow
With
light which living ocean creatures blocked,
Their
clumsy bodies lying in the way
Of
any beauty, sluggish, sodden, still.
Now,
hurrying from rock to weed to leaf
Are
myriad creatures, never tied to shells,
Which
scurry on a path their feet can choose,
And
use what shell they visit, each at will.
If
but our shrinking spirits can release
That
thrall that cuts us off and marks us "mine";
If
we like creatures venturesome and bold
Can
leave the shells which shield and separate
And
let them lie, then we can hope two things...
At
first, the freedom, life without the shell
May
grant us motion, energy and skill
To
choose our path--to move and change and grow,
To
interact, to meet and know our world.
Then,
as we leave behind our careful walls,
Abandoning
those things which separate,
The
beauty we once hid can be revealed
To
glow with lucent radiance, to turn
From
something dead and shuttered to a thing
Of
lambent loveliness, a kind of taut,
Transparent
beauty shells could never hold.
For
my friend Sandy...August 1984
The
Harper's Love Song
A
harper sits within the hall
As
silence settles over all
Who
gather 'round the fire...
And
one calls out, "Give us a song
To
while away the night so long...
Sing
to us of desire!"
A
silence falls among the crowd
And
no one moves or speaks aloud,
But
waits the Bard's reply...
At
length her voice they hear her raise
"I'll
sing to ye my truelove's praise,
Which
none here may deny...
Alone
I've sung the songs of war,
Of
glory and of battle's roar,
Of
valiant deeds and true...
Alone
I've sung of queens and kings
Of
elves and gods and many things
Which
I myself ne'er knew...
And
yet to sing has been my life...
A
bard no man would take to wife,
Though
all have sung my fame...
Alone
I've sat within your hall
And
cried the names and fame of all
Yet
my hand none would claim...
And
so I sing a song made new
A
song in praise of none of you,
But
of another's life...
You
ask a song of deep desire,
I'll
sing to you the raging fire
Of
my love for my wife...
Her
hands are raised in daily toil
To
give me of the richest spoil
The
world's goods can afford...
No
sickness, weariness or pain
Prevents
her hand each day again
From
granting me reward..
Her
face is ever turned to me
Though
all the beauties one might see
Pass
by her eyes each day..
She
yet has eyes for me alone
And
all her love is but mine own,
And
all her smiles my way....
Her
body's slender lissome grace,
Despite
my age, thinks no disgrace
To
grant me passion's will...
No
shame or modesty she shows
But
under my caress she glows
And
bids me drink my fill...
Her
praises of my talents ring
More
true than any song I sing,
Or
any other's praise,
For
she sees to my very heart
And
honors that within my art
That
love for her displays...
Indeed
her love for me, so strong,
Is
my defense my whole life long,
Against
the ills of life,
Like
the five points of this my star,
Her
beauties my defenses are,
And
she my Goddess-wife..."
The
bard her ringing harp lays down,
And
to the silent, listening town
Makes
boldly to aver...
"No
more the minstrel here I'll be,
For
she is my heart's destiny...
From
now, I sing for her!"
A
silence falls within the hall
As
striding swiftly, lithe and tall,
The
harper leaves the place,
And
disappears into the night
Where
music is her love's delight,
And
moonlight is her face.
(for
Briana, 1996)
Wordless
I
sit here, turning the tools in my hands,
Wishing
to build something worthy of my love...
But
what? What can I do,
Or
say,
Or
dream,
That
can even begin to match the reality
Of
who she is
And
what she brings to me...
A
poet, a rhyming trickster, I,
With
much to say, of little substance;
And
yet, now, for the first time,
I
have material worthy the poet's pen,
And
I cannot use it...
Every
time I have tried
To
tell her
Who
she is to me,
What
our love means to me,
I
fall mute,
frustrated
by the wonder
Of
the reality
Which
so far surpasses the description...
Then
I remembered...
Last
night,
A
sunset,
A
rainbow,
The
power of a stormwind...
Incredible
beauty, fleeting as a breath,
Indescribable,
Changing
even as we gazed...
"Oh,
LOOK"...but when one did look,
the
wonder was different...and one had missed that
Which
drew forth the exclamation...
You
just had to be there...
And
I realized
That
is how it is for me
There
is never a moment
Empty
of wonder,
Never
a time when I could not
Write
rapturous sonnets in her praise...
But
the moments fleet by
like
flaming sunset clouds,
Wrapping
me round with fleeting beauty,
And
fading into other colors,
other
shapes,
Even
as I gaze on what was just there...
I
love her...
I
love her as I love
The
wonder of every varied moment of living...
You
just have to be there.
(for Brie, on an ordinary day --1998)