Wednesday, May 30, 2012

Peter / Rock


I haven't yet become astonished.
My school suit hides a secret life,
but I've yet to be disturbed
by the rushing of the light that dances.
I know running, and the flowing
of its hard muscle body work propelling me;
I shape my intricate worlds of play.
I'll let myself laugh as the sun finds my face.

But I haven't been touched yet, turned
consciously inward - where a breeze does blow
in the heart - by the otherness of things.
I haven't, because when the stones finally do speak
and you hear the voice of the dead -
the lonely cry at the heart of things -
you have to be ready to know the edges of your own flesh.
I haven't been astonished, because this hasn't happened yet.

At sixteen, I am about to be dislodged.



29 May 2012

1 comment:

  1. Hi peter, this is from when I was 14 or about to turn 14...

    a boy knows loneliness
    finding for himself ways to cope
    leaves a note ‘Learning to fly…’
    and walks into the bush

    stands on the edge of the rock
    wings spread to get a feel for it
    prays by the creek sleeps in a cave
    dreaming about a journey he can shape

    little thought for those left behind
    little thought for his ‘state of mind’
    because he has found something larger
    he has journeyed to meet his loneliness

    and he knows now the world is lonely and interwoven
    the trees are quiet and interspoken
    and everything speaks for him
    in voices he will channel through poetry and song

    (Simon Williams, 22.7.2012)

    Another significant experience from before that time was walking with my mum on a beach and seeing a pelican fly over and suddenly seeing the interwoven nature of life. When I look back I realise I had this habit from very young, cultivating solitude and insight. Obviously I am not talking about all in your poem but touching on that otherness

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