My therapist told me today that I’m in the midst of a “spiritual realignment” -- that I’m shifting. Sounds to me like car trouble on the journey towards enlightenment! For me, all meaning in life came from the external world, but now all meaning seems to be coming from my experience of my inner-life. As a consequence, I now hate my job – or at least it seems that way, because it has nothing to do with my journey. My job used to blow my hair back on a regular basis. Now it just blows on a regular basis. I’m happy that much of what used to be important to me is no longer important. But I’m struggling with myself as this shift occurs. This week’s prompt got me thinking about how much time I’ve wasted in the pursuit of a career that I once thought was noble and worthwhile. Now I just feel stupid. My therapist says, “Be patient. All will be revealed in time.” Ok. I’ll wait. In the meantime, I write . . .If these walls could talk . . .
If these walls could talk
They would wait, like painted soldiers
Stoically, at attention
Hep – Hut!
Bravely adorned with art hung on nails
A bizarre crucifixion indeed
Bearing witness to their own silent scream
Sixteen years in quiet reconnoiter
These walls
Observing and patient
The lonely march of a career
If they could talk
Swollen with secrets
A life caged within and spent
Like a thunderous cannon charge
Though only more slowly
A skein of yarn
Snagged on life’s momentum
Unraveled and shapeless as air
Oh, to witness the body of life’s work
The measure of a man, Ha!
Frenetic and pulsing
Yet another day discarded
The hollow clank of the refuse bin
Marking the passage of time
Like a galvanized metronome
Alas the canvas is blank
Wiped clean each day by the cloth
Of the unlived life
If these walls could talk
If these walls could talk
A great and urgent cry
Would pierce the darkness
An audible beacon of hope
Take flight!
Discard this mortal theme
And ascend my brother
If these walls could talk
They would wait, like painted soldiers
Stoically, at attention
Hep – Hut!
Bravely adorned with art hung on nails
A bizarre crucifixion indeed
Bearing witness to their own silent scream
Sixteen years in quiet reconnoiter
These walls
Observing and patient
The lonely march of a career
If they could talk
Swollen with secrets
A life caged within and spent
Like a thunderous cannon charge
Though only more slowly
A skein of yarn
Snagged on life’s momentum
Unraveled and shapeless as air
Oh, to witness the body of life’s work
The measure of a man, Ha!
Frenetic and pulsing
Yet another day discarded
The hollow clank of the refuse bin
Marking the passage of time
Like a galvanized metronome
Alas the canvas is blank
Wiped clean each day by the cloth
Of the unlived life
If these walls could talk
If these walls could talk
A great and urgent cry
Would pierce the darkness
An audible beacon of hope
Take flight!
Discard this mortal theme
And ascend my brother
Ascend!
By Dennis Tkon Copyright 2006
17 comments:
Nice take on it. indeed if these walls could talk...
...we'd know a lot of things, wouldn't we?
Thanks for your encouraging comments on my blog. Cheers.
Such despair and angst I hear. Patience? All will be revealed?
You poem has revealed much already.
It's easy to say, "Be patient. All will be revealed in time." But living through it is never easy. I have seen this place you describe so eloquently, and your therapist's words are true, the answers to your questions are forming within you this very moment, like being pregnant with the true You. The waves of labor pain come quicker toward the final birthing, but it's worth it when you look into the face of your own beauty and innocence! Thanks for sharing your struggle with us within this wonderfully crafted poem. I'm honored to read it.
"A great and urgent cry
would pierce the darkness"
Love that. Thanks for sharing. Nic
Dennis: we must be on parallel paths. Feeling stupid seems to be the outstanding feeling I have these days.
On your poem: what a way to take all that, and make it yours. Nice.
Wow! Such a powerful poem. Well done, you! I can understand your frustrations - keep writing them out!
Well, thank goodness for your meantimes because this is worth it - from an observers point of view, at any rate.
Dennis, your beautiful poem talks to me of desolation, desperation, hopelessness and all of a sudden the light comes, and then there is resurrection.
Beautifully composed. Carefully & then thoughtfully too.
Sorry about your job. I know that wretched feeling. But who knows what waits round the corner. Let your heart lead you to your loves.
And I sure love the picture you've posted with this poem.
yes much revealed..read again and see the life calling to you..and go live it to your fullest..not it's as yours will be so much richer for it, as it will be you will leading your life and not it leading you
oops..sorry Dennis..I hit the button before I was finished..I just wanted to say that I always enjoy coming to read your words..I really like how you write nd express your self..thanks..m
Thanks everyone for visiting and reading my poem and for leaving your thoughts. As always, its most appreciated. Criticism is also always welcome – it helps us to grow as poets!!!!!
Wow, Dennis, i feel your frustration strongly through your words. In time, though, it's true, things will make more sense. We have to evolve and change, and sometimes things have to be left behind. I so feel the same about my own job, it's unreal. Everyday it traps me, and i know that it feels like your pushing against a wall the whole time... But writing does help to alleviate these feelings. So keep going. Lots of love Dennis xx
What a wonderful poem!! I have decided that your consistancy in writing great pieces of poetry requires me to permanently link you from my site. :-)
Wonderful insight.
Your poem was very alive...it made me glad walls couldn't talk--all of the angst and suffering they bear witness to. By the end, you turned the energy of it and made me change my mind. I read it several times, appreciating the line...
You have written an anthem for spiritual reclamation.
Well, hmmm. Now I feel as though your compliment really means something. This is stellar work, my new friend. The language, the passion, the power. I got goosebumps reading it. Doesn't happen often. Thanks for a delicious morning. I hope it's a good day for both of us.
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