Friday, April 14, 2006

this poem isn't quite done

[crocuses in the garden]
(but the crocuses are opening already)
* * *
there is
no separation
in the worlds between us –

they lay like lichens bright on
the rocks clinging, a necessary
symbiosis, the strata giving life

to bright mosses, death revealing
layers of emulsion as the picture
becomes clear –

death is not a foreign language.
& there is no need for translation

there is no separation
just a transliteration, same
speech transcribed in another
alphabet;

or the transfiguration of
sound – death is just a different accent
from the same country, upon the same
words shifting through time
& place

but i need no passport to visit you
all i need to do
is speak to you
in any language

in a heartbeat
like waxwing wingbeats pressing
up to the trees

& you answer me
with a tongue like petals of crocus
pushing violet up
from your whole throat
now the earth

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

this poem is lovely.

"death is not a froeign language.
& there is no need for translation"

mmm.

spring is such a hopeful time (for connection and growth!). i think we will appreciate the crocuses and the sweet peas and the dill in the garden even more this year. it seems that loss belongs to winter instead of spring.

Anonymous said...

oops. i mean foreign. oh dears.

bonne nuit!

jenanne said...

thank you b.stu.

the poem changed a little bit, but not too much. it will be in my book in its new form.

yes... i will be planting giant pots of dill this summer... at our house, we should plant sweet peas. if we have a porch or balcony with a railing, we can let them twine up the posts...