Wednesday, October 14, 2009

Conversing over Coffee with Crusoe

(Pre-Script: This poem is intended to be read as the song, " How To Save A Life," #33 on the playlist, plays in the background. Go down to the playlist, click on that song, then come back and resume reading. I'll wait...) (...still waiting...)

If I have been rescued from a deserted island
by an unexpected hovering helicopter with a step ladder
(I was looking up at the sky as I climbed it's rungs,
I was noticing how bright the clouds were,
like no clouds ever before -)
If I sat on the flight and shivered, remembering;
If I was taken to the place from which I had been exiled
by choice or by happenstance,
-who can say how these things
come upon us-
(but I see now that it is a small inkling of both,
intricately woven together like a cruel cloth that covers you,
making you lose all sense of direction, "where's the compass again?"
and before you know it your raft is too far gone,
your cries are not heard above the noise of waves that crash
and crash and crash into the shore
of someplace you never thought you would be.)
If I have been rescued from that, would I
then go back to dig up my treasure
(I buried it carelessly in the sands of that desolation
I was careless with what was a treasure,
do you hear me?)
Should I now look back?
Would I choose to forget that as I climbed the ladder rungs of an unexpected helicopter rescue
how bright
the clouds hung, as I focused on the sky?
I cannot go back and dig up what I left there, I have come too far
what is lost, I lost, I lost,
(beats my heart and my chest and my lungs- breath deeply-
scour the shelves of what is still inside, create-)
Time, space, water, good soil
will grow something new
that has never flourished before.
what I have is what is in front of me;

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