The hard part is to unsee, the poet said,
and I remember my long years of exile,
impossible to settle for a less-than life,
after experiencing the golden shore.
My every thought and prayer was
wanting more.
wanting more.
Back then, the town inhabited me
as I once inhabited the town.
as I once inhabited the town.
I lived a makeshift life,
my dreams nattering
in the corners of my mind,
just out of reach.
my dreams nattering
in the corners of my mind,
just out of reach.
I was haunted by a village,
by a forest,
by a beach.
by a forest,
by a beach.
I longed for sunset,
missed the wild,
full of phantom wolves
and misty trees,
a wild woman away from the wild,
my spirit longing
to be free.
missed the wild,
full of phantom wolves
and misty trees,
a wild woman away from the wild,
my spirit longing
to be free.
Well. I am not in a writing space this week at all, but wanted to respond to Shay's Word List. The words - inhabit, makeshift, nattering, phantom - took me back to my exile in Port Alberni, where I marked time for seventeen years until I was able to return to Tofino. I riffed off Shay's words: "The hard part is to unsee". Having once known such a golden existence, it was impossible to settle for anything less. Such gratitude that I was able to come back.
Very poignant, especially since i know something of the journey you've taken in these last many years. It's true, you are back where you belong, Sherry. It suits your soul. I love the phantom wolves and misty trees especially, in this poem.
ReplyDeleteps--you and Helen both riffed on that same line!
DeleteConsider myself in excellent company, Sherry .... that phrase captured my full attention. A lovely riff on the word list.
ReplyDelete"I was haunted by a village,
ReplyDeleteby a forest,
by a beach." -- There are some places that speak to our soul like no other, that "golden shore" we carry within us when we are exiles. A poem for the ages, certainly for every one who's known the loss of "home" and the ones who found their way back to "the wild" to be free.
The Cat Sanctuary's always been like that for me too...I remember friends, teachers, etc., asking what I really wanted to do with college, jobs, career, etc., and answering, time after time, "Well what I *really* want to do is live in my ancestral home and write."
ReplyDeleteBeautiful, Sherry. Love this:
ReplyDelete"my dreams nattering
in the corners of my mind,
just out of reach."
And the whole of the last stanza. The whole poem resonated with me.
Perfect. What do you mean you were not in a writing mood!!
ReplyDelete