It's a different me now, no
rest from alterations more and more
increasing – not at all by my will,
nor yet against it. This is the journey, the
way that we all grow, more wild
than we know, tossed by an invisible wind
which we ignore, imagining that
it's we who tilt the glass for the sand that passes.
The first young grasses can't return,
fine and fresh; they are long fronds now, no
way back to a before all gone, no more....
Blown onward unknowing, nevermore we return.
Blown onward unknowing, nevermore we return.
Written for the "No More" Sunday Mini-Challenge at 'imaginary garden with real toads'. The form is the Golden Shovel, based on the closing lines of Watching the Needle Boats at San Sabba by James Joyce: 'No more will the wild wind that passes / Return, no more return'.
Oh wow Rosemary this was exceptional and spoke volumes to me....these words especially dug deep into my soul as it is how I have been feeling....
ReplyDelete'The first young grasses can't return,
fine and fresh; they are long fronds now, no
way back to a before all gone, no more....
Blown onward unknowing, nevermore we return.'
This is terrific, Rosemary. You use the idea of no more so effectively and in different ways. The beginning about no rest from the more and more alterations is especially compelling. Thanks. K.
ReplyDelete"The first young grasses can't return,
ReplyDeletefine and fresh; they are long fronds now, no
way back to a before all gone, no more...." there is a bitter-sweetness this truth and this I think about a lot "tossed by an invisible wind which we ignore, imagining that
it's we who tilt the glass for the sand that passes." Beauty andtruth here, Rosemary
First I read your lovely poem on the grasses this morning and now you follow up with this. The use of the form was totally invisible for me... but it did make so much sense.
ReplyDeleteWe can recover from so many things--we, humans, are a resilient bunch. But to have it back exactly as it was is impossible, and your poem illustrates that so well.
ReplyDeletethe
ReplyDeleteway that we all grow, more wild
than we know, tossed by an invisible wind
which we ignore
I love these lines, Rosemary. They contain both wisdom and truth.
Nicely sketched, Rosemary. To me this is the way it is, the way it works. My biggest losses in order (wouldn't come near as strong as yours) were divorce, loss of Adi (my Beagle dog), loss of Mom, loss of Dad. The others were insignificant.
ReplyDeleteBTW, when I saw your title I immediately though of the song, "Hit the road, Jack, don't come back no more, no more, no more."
..
Spot on! The title was referring to that song (because it was included in the prompt). *Grin*
DeleteAnd I snuck in 'nevermore' too, for the same reason.
DeleteWonderful! We think we "tilt the glass for the sand that passes" - that is so true. Yes, it is the journey, and fascinating every inch of the way. Love this poem, my friend. Deep wisdom, deep peace.
ReplyDelete"..no/ rest from alterations..." indeed. You evoke the perfect visuals with this poem of change which somehow also is a poem of continuity--that there is no going back is a haunting thing in life, but also, somehow affirming, too. Or so this makes me feel.
ReplyDelete'it's we who tilt the glass for the sand that passes' ~ as I approach seventy-five, this line perfectly describes how I am feeling. Lovely write.
ReplyDeleteEach day we change.."no rest from alterations" My mind can sprout green grass, but my body races toward dust. Beautiful piece
ReplyDeleteYes, no more Rosemary! They have all grown and changed! Reminiscent of one's progress through time. There is no looking back.
ReplyDeleteHank
This passage of time is captured so well in the organic growth of field's grasses...there's no going back...only returning. Beautiful.
ReplyDeleteIt's always sad when things pass. Memories are all we keep if even that.
ReplyDelete