.
Where thou art, that is home
Emily Dickinson
Plainsong
Stop. Along this path, in phrases of light
trees sing their leaves. No Midas touch
has turned the wood to gold this year
when you pass by, suddenly sad, straining
to remember something you're sure you knew
Listening. The words you have for things die
in your heart, but grasses are plainsong
patiently chanting the circles you cannot repeat
or understand. This is your homeland,
Lost One, Stranger who speaks with tears.
It is almost impossible to be here and yet
you kneel, no-one's child, absolved by the sun
through the branches of a wood, distantly
the evening bell reminding you, Home, Home
trees sing their leaves. No Midas touch
has turned the wood to gold this year
when you pass by, suddenly sad, straining
to remember something you're sure you knew
Listening. The words you have for things die
in your heart, but grasses are plainsong
patiently chanting the circles you cannot repeat
or understand. This is your homeland,
Lost One, Stranger who speaks with tears.
It is almost impossible to be here and yet
you kneel, no-one's child, absolved by the sun
through the branches of a wood, distantly
the evening bell reminding you, Home, Home
Home, and the stone in your palm telling the time.
Carol Anne Duffy
Carol Anne Duffy
Rich pickings in plenty here on your blog: poems and paintings. A good place to come.
ReplyDeleteI echo Dave's sentiments exactly.
ReplyDeleteThis has been a spectacularly lovely autumn here in the States.
Leaves falling rapidly now--awfully late in the season.
Crunch crunch underfoot.
Love the new (?) header.
Hello Cait
ReplyDeleteI will have to second dave's words. You have a way with sharing your poems and what beautiful paintings you share with your readers.
I truly appreciated your kind words on my blog. Please do come back~~my book give away, I hope will be posted Thursday or Firday.
Take Care
Best
Tracy :)
I am so glad she was made poet laureate.
ReplyDeleteSo beautiful.
ReplyDeleteAnd the painting.... Loch Coruisk?
Really magnificent. The word "home" has such forest cathedral resonance, and you've mined it wonderfully here. Amen to Emily, and to this welcome to every prodigal. - Brendan
ReplyDeleteMoving choices for us, Cait. Well, there is Dave again, saying it all. Thanks for commenting on my blog--otherwise I might not have landed here!
ReplyDelete