Monday, May 28, 2012

Quest, son ...


                                                                                                                         I had to run if I was going
                                                                                                                    To spend the day alone:
                                                                                  There's too much hate in love-of-self.

                                                                                          “A stick is just a bone” –
                                                            Are the kinds of thoughts I can never
                                                                                  think without jumping
                                                                Over driftwood, broken birds.

                                                        I had to touch to think – did I?
                                                                   Either way, I find I do
                              With a sweat-wet back and two bare feet.

                                                In the summer breeze (a mew
                                     Blown away from the sun) I crash
                                                         silently on the dust
              Of old leaves, old hairs: every ghost come.

                                                    *
                      Running by light feels granted
                              until it dims into grain
           And the wind pulls back, wanting.

                           I turn for home again
   At a tree that's torn since last time:
             A large shredded branch.
Wind wants; weight wants; time wants.

More (something beyond 
  themselves).

“Where is your heart son?”
In my chest, sir.
“And what does it do?”
It does its best, sir.
     “Where is your mind, son?”
     In my head, sir.
     “And where does it sleep?”
     Where it makes its bed, sir.
           “Where is your soul, son?”
           In my lungs, sir.
          “And how does it die?”
          As it next becomes, sir.
“And where do you run?”
Just to be a man, sir.
“And where is your question?”

It's in my answer.

                 *
Seems there is twice the light when
  the wet sand throws it – that band
    Dries a hundred
                             times a day for

          A moment. 


                            Never really land,
          Thicker than the sea;
  
                                nor will I,
 

              the same 

 
                             (half-set / half-lush).

   

                           This is my world; 

 
                                                         it runs through me.

1 comment:

  1. I believe this poem focuses on the different quests and challenges we all face as humans. The poem starts with the speaker stating that he needs to run if he is to “spend the day alone” (2), and then goes on to say “there’s too much hate in love-of-self” (3). When running, we are often running towards something or away from something, whether it be physically or metaphorically. In this context, the speaker is running away from his innately selfish human nature. To love one’s self can sometimes be perceived as negative, because it is common that one has to hate others in order to feel better about himself. We live in a society where hate is very common, but when he is alone the speaker is able to run away from the negativity. When running against the wind, “the wind pulls back, wanting” (17). The wind is similar to the many obstacles one faces in his lifetime. He is drawn in many direction by many things, including time. Both the wind and time “want” something, in that there is always more pressure and more challenges one has to overcome, whether it be not having enough time, or something, like the wind, preventing him from reaching his wanted destination. The speaker then proceeds to have a conversation with someone respected and seemingly wiser, as he is addressed by sir. I found it interesting that the man asks the son “and where do you run?” (36) and the son replies “just to be a man sir” (37). The man asks the son where he runs, and yet the son replies with the reason why he runs. This demonstrates that location is unimportant in terms of running, because no matter where the son is running he will always be running for the same reason: to be a man. Running allows the son to be a man by helping him solve his problems. Through running, the son is able to come to a realization about life and answer his own questions. This realization is also demonstrated through the size of the text. At the beginning of the poem, the font is smaller reflecting, the son’s lack of knowledge as he asks questions. The font gets larger through out the poem as the son comes to a realization, firmly stating that this is his world, demonstrating a sense of power. By saying the world “runs through me” (51) shows that the son does not have to submit to obstacles such as time and the wind, but rather he has the ability to control his own life, and not be controlled by the world and the desires of others.

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