Preparing to Leave.
The children here are as old as the crumbling buildings
It’s as though they have absorbed the history that surrounds them
Or perhaps history has absorbed them?
How can one possibly be young
When you are born into a thousand generations still alive
Would it be absurd to imagine
That they crawl out from the walls?
Layer upon layer of familial fingerprints
Footsteps retraced a thousand million times
Indeed I believe that they stand
In the impressions left by forefathers
Long since departed but
Stubbornly refusing to leave
History is alive here
Tangible like the cave drawings
Etched into the rocks not so far away
Time seems to have paused
Existence is no longer linear
The water coloured lines have bled
Into one another
The past is the present
The tables are long
And the chairs are many
And all are welcome to feast
If I permit my mind to wander even further
I imagine that the birdsong of spring
Is evidence of ancestors unwinding from the sleepy earth
Their task being to ensure that everything
Is as it should be
The children are safe under the watchful eyes of the trees
Babies are hushed to sleep
Courtesy of waterfall lullabies
They awake with rose apple cheeks that can only come
When you are bred from cheese and wine
Where the endless mountains
And meandering valleys are your playground
Where you learn to swim in cooling waters
Of ice melt
And school days take place
In the green carpeted hills
Sprayed with the colours of wild flowers
Which dawdle under candy floss clouds
In the apricot sky
The children here
Come from a place long since forgotten by time
They walk in the footsteps of Cézanne
And Van Gogh
This is a place that inspires poetic verse
Where life is imbued with wonder and awe
The kind of beauty that takes the artist to the edge of madness
Forcing one to dig to the very depth of your being only to find it is never enough
No brush, quill, nor ink
Can capture the wonder of such an exquisite tapestry
It is ethereal by nature
Not of this world
The only way to capture it
Is to feel it
To breath it in deeply
Tattoo it into your soul
Here you may die
But you will never, really
Truly become old.
Sat 6th May 2023 21:46
Thank you all for your likes and kind comments. I am truly in awe of your kind words. I have to confess to being the tortured artist who can only ever see room for improvement but all your kind comments keep me going. Thank you!
Sat 6th May 2023 13:53
Shame that WOL seemed to have ended poem of the week because this would surely have topped the list Clare
well done girl!
Sat 6th May 2023 07:28
You seem to have captured the whole of humanity in one poem, Clare. Astonishing! A wonderful read.
Fri 5th May 2023 20:48
A Superb poem, Clare. An inspirational tapestry woven from the core of our creative being!
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