Wednesday, March 10, 2010

The Name of Thee

when I before the
breaking of skin, whisper
in my voice sing savage
the names of trees and thee

when the silents wrapped
in the pause
between all words
I myself waited hung
suspended like a light
in the mist of pooling

but the skin then
was smooth and new
and I wonted the world to
rub rough and the weather
to mark it , and give me history.

when the flesh broke
and the world gushed
in and though the silents
reseeded, the lyrics in my
ears took voice and hummed
the names the world wore, and thee

I mumbled along eventually
capturing and holding what
the world made whole
and transparent on my
lips and tongue,
the world danced to
the tune stepping through
the seasons and the spinning of
the sun,

all the names came tumbling
stepping along the flood
of light when the flesh
broke the song, and in me,  gave
name to thee.


Avachild said...

You possess such powerful, haunting, beautiful words.

This most recent, I feel lost in. Every time I read it I get pointed in a different direction. It leaves me feeling a little lost and confused. The marring of flesh being the center of it all but the story that surrounds it is hazy.

I know that not all things are meant to be understood, just experienced. Yet, when it makes my breath catch and my skin tingle I have to question it and wonder why.

You have very powerful words, Finbar

finbar said...

avachild, you are quite perceptive, and sensitive, the poem is obscure, its very personal, a lament of sorts, but i do admit that it will leave readers at a loss.

i don't usually post my more obscure poems, but i have been trying to regain my equilibrium, which has been forever altered, and one of my ways of doing so is to post, and try to post regularly.

for a number of months i stopped writing completely, and am only tentatively trying to find my muse, which has abandoned me.

in a way i guess i am apologizing for being so obscure and obtuse.

i assure you that my future postings will not be as confusing.

thank you.

Avachild said...

Oh there is no reason to apologize for being obscure or obtuse. Poetry isn't always a lay out of words that tells a story. Its feels and emotions that should pour out from it. Therefore it is "felt" differently by each person that reads it. Because my own writings get misinterpreted so often I tend to question other peoples writings when I get mixed emotions from them. Just to better understand where they are coming from or what was going through their minds.

I'm glad you are trying to get back to writing. I've missed reading your thoughts and emotions.