First river, then field, now sky — by drew myron
Mapped
To be given a map or compass would prevent my getting lost — what, for me, the making of poems requires from the start; the act of writing is a way of finding a way forward into the next clearing.
A poem is a gesture toward home.
1.
Somewhere is anywhere is everywhere is nowhere is here.
2.
You are silent. The current is coming.
A breeze breaks through / pushes us on.
Time moves between us, expands and breathes.
First river, then field, now sky.
3.
Inside your skeleton freedom passes / then glances back.
Years ago you locked away but always left the key.
Now there is something new to see: everything waiting.
4.
Go among change.
Get lost, get hurt, get old.
Let go. Fray.
5.
Remember what once softened the world?
Lift your eyes to amber light, soft shoulders, a slow knowing.
Now turn around.
I’m still here.
* * *
The world turns on words, please read & write.
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