How do you get used to not being used to the old one anymore?
My hometown exists in layers. Magma, limestone, brown earth, juicy green with sparkling rivers and brooks, cerulean atmosphere, long a’s where there should be o’s, dark sounds of heavy metal (more often under- than above ground), the discomfort of hugs, and certainty of loyalty. With each step further away another layer peels off until there’s just the boiling magma of homesickness left.
What do I miss? The metaphor
of isolation in how we rarely hug and kiss.
The symbol of unity in how the houses
huddle together along narrow streets
boxing you in when you try to escape.
The fierce rhythms of the rough but
melodious dialect.
The cadence of Friday afternoon traffic.
The beauty that gets more dazzling
The bigger the distance you’re watching from.
The comfort of home wanes with the rattle of the train wheels, the memory is distracted with new music and words, but the longing is permanently (in the) present (tense).
Mom used to tell me to scatter ashes around plants and seeds and flowers. New things grow out of the ruin of the old. New life will spring in my place when I die, but the memory remains, persists, breathes, aches and forever maintains your link to that one place.
hey! "long a's where there should be o's", that's poetry at its best!
ReplyDeletei also liked what you shared from your mother regarding spreading ashes. new things do grow from ruin of the old. sometimes (at least for me) it takes returning to realize this growth.
nice to read you.
sherry o'keefe
Home and how it changes from distance – so interesting. great format, too. loved this line: “but the longing is permanently (in the) present (tense)”
ReplyDeleteand interesting how this also connects with the post right next to yours from Cathy McGuire about the 2 faces of a town: http://homesweet-or.blogspot.com/2011/06/var-gajshost-https-document.html
Beautiful... I especially like:
ReplyDelete"What do I miss? The metaphor
of isolation in how we rarely hug and kiss."
Home is so empty without love.
Great entry. I love "The beauty that gets more dazzling/ The bigger the distance you’re watching from." Its a great description of nostalgia and pleasant memories.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your comments and thoughts.
ReplyDelete@Dorothee Yes, Cathy's post felt very familiar, she captured similar sentiments in her poem.
These lines of yours, below, stopped me > begged a reread, or 2, or 3 ...
ReplyDelete"... New things grow out of the ruin of the old. New life will spring in my place when I die, but the memory remains, persists, breathes, aches and forever maintains your link to that one place."
So beautiful ~
Thank you, Karyn. I appreciate your words.
ReplyDelete