If I lay here, if I just lay here, will you lay with me and just forget the world.
—Snow Patrol
Like sipping the stars in water,
like hearing the sun in the stone
all the impossibles, all the fantastic
notions are possible now.
Like drinking gray sky in big gulps.
Like song spiraling out of bent wheat
there is improbable joy, my love,
in the imperfect, marred, defeated.
There are shoulds, my dear, and mustn’ts
there are cages we think are ourselves,
but night is here and soon there will be
nothing we can’t have.
But it’s not about the having
not even about the dream.
it’s about, well, darling, I don’t know.
Let’s close our eyes and see.
“but night is here and soon there will be/nothing we can’t have.” And how about that—it’s not the new day that brings change unto us, but the present darkness. And, for sure, “there are cages we thing are ourselves.”
At a later time, this calls to be posted in song—it IS a lullaby…
If you’re stil looking for poems for the new collection, place this near the tippy-top of the list of keepers.
Yes, a fine piece. The third stanza is my favorite, but the whole poem sings.
I think you would be better off without that but sticking out at the start of the fourth stanza:>) I’d try for a “Still,…” right as the poem quiets down.
This photo is so profoundly poignant, the child runs toward her next year while we offer up our hopes….picture should be submitted to photo contest also. It stands perfectly of its own.