Thursday, June 27, 2013


I'm swept up by the romance 
Of this misty morning
Foggy morning
Bird calls sweet and soft
Air perfumed 
The crooked path beckons
Out of the backyard
Through the woods
Into the glade
The familiar trail is lost in the haze
A little past the iron gate
Right where the brown rabbit has his burrow
All I can see in the moment is light and fog
My jacket feels too warm for the day
But it keeps the damp out
I'm walking to clear my head
The fog within is poetically mimicking the fog without
I smirk at my own little observation
I'm tired now
Of trying to find my way through the thicket and brush
In this relentless fog
Robbed of the familiar signposts
Of the persimmon tree
The brick chimney
That  tell of a cottage that once stood
On this lovely land
Ruins from an idyllic past
Conjuring up visions
Of simpler sweeter times
Now past the clearing
I see a clump of elms
I've never seen before
I've never been this far from home 
Into the woods
But it seems safe enough to be here
So I sit down to rest
The fog is still warm and wet and sweet
The romance of it all is slightly worn
But it is still beautiful enough to appreciate
I look up
At the dew-laden boughs of the elms
And touch the bark rough and wet
Insulated by the fog
All I see and all I feel
Is curiously magnified
And utterly sensuous
My mind sees this
As a visual pun
"Desire Under The Elms"
Remembering O'Neil
And the Greeks
Remembering  too how I puked
When I first read it
Ruing the killing 
The incest
The insanity
The betrayal of evolution
Of billions of years
By a foolish boy
Who in the manner of certain usurping princes
Killed the patriarch
And claimed his harem
I understand now
Its place in the evolution of the individual
And am unfazed by its goriness
The sun has come up
The fog is clearing
As I retrace my steps
I see the woods the trees the chimney differently
I have no choice
But to make peace
With the fact that there always has been
The darker side of life
Aided by the soulless among us
Laying claim on the young the unsuspecting the gullible
Leading to hate war pestilence 
At home and abroad
As hate begets hate
Fear fear
Mistrust mistrust
Violence violence
Making tragedies of every human tale
Making dead dupes of the simple ones
Nobles of the crafty ones
And that time has ended for me
This lover of light has relinquished her ego
And accepted her handicap
Lovers of light are blinded by the light
Just as they would be blinded by the night
And rendered useless
As babes in the woods
Until they learn to see in the dark
And in the darkness
Of now and of yesterdays and  tomorrows
And that walk through the fog
Was good practice
For dueling in the dark
                                                                    ~  Sonali

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