While I’m working my tushy off to get a post done, I thought I would share a piece of writing of which I’m proud.

Thank you to B.W. Ginsburg of Rest in Piece for inspiring me to share this work.  I’ve read her book, Rest in Piece, & it was wonderful.  I highly recommend it!  I’ll be writing up a review shortly.

The Melancholy Dane Review published this poem, “78,” in 2009.  All rights reserved (but, if you’re so inclined, feel free to reblog!!  🙂 ).

My fingertips pitter pat the leather coated lead

of my baby blue steed

and we neatly slice the air in the winding valley of asphalt.

The once majestic mountains

were reduced to puzzle pieces

by the cataclysmic assistance of man,

and leaves seem to burn to this day.

These same smattering of oaks, cedars, and pines

stood aside to watch the granite

disintegrate into ash all those decades ago

on the whim of a generation that

could not,

would not,

look beyond where their footprints would end.

I coax my combustion converting chariot to a halt,

it will patiently anticipate my return.

Every measured step I place between myself

and those ties that bind me to the present,

struggles valiantly to detach me

from fast-flying moment called “now.”

Narrow walkways wind

through the pitted and scarred trunks of trees,

but no, not these.

These follow the will of someone else

who charted these courses on their choices.

What I seek is a way

devised of my own mind.

It may be covered in leaves,

hiding wild beasts

or even barricaded

by the corpses of the forest.

No matter.

This will be my track,

this path I give birth to on the dirt,

and I will nurture it with utmost devotion.

For a few hours it shall be my child,

my corner of the sky

untouched by others,

until today creeps back like a dense fog.

That haze of today.

® Ariel Lynn 2009

5 thoughts on “78”

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