Posts Tagged ‘youth’

 

I’ve been listening to this song by Paul Simon (yes, of Simon & Garfunkel) for the past few days.

Maybe it’s the drums, maybe it’s the melody or the lyrics, but it just gets stuck in my head so easily. It sort of sounds like an anthem, as well. An anthem about childhood.

“Why deny the obvious child” that’s inside us all?

 

Summers is here and the sun bares down.

I could impress upon people the value of rain-

silver fingers drumming, the sky without frown-

but they see it as a pain,

something to avoid. I would dance in it,

but instead I sit

inside and read poetry. When I was young

I would open my mouth to the rain

the way any other child would catch snowflakes on his tongue,

and I would spin for raindrops and drink them in.

Summer people watch the moon wax and wane.

On bright mornings I wince at the sun

and whisper you win.

Where is the crossing

of the stars? Not Here,

as is desired-

Youths wish it’d appear-

 

though- Consequences

be neglected- Outcomes-

rarely what expected,

or what one dreams-

O but if you could see how lonely I am,

for I am young and crave that sickening, sweet,

drink known as pity. And I am lonely;

I house a heart that is heavy with burdens

that many men and women have held before-

but they are new to me, and I state,

once again, I am young, and with youth

comes yet another burden: inexperience.

And Time scrolls on,

motioning not to its Underlings

(who heavily preoccupy themselves

with Trivial things).

Why do I feel like a villain,

for intruding upon the monotony of your life,

for being put in a haze by rush of blood to my skull,

for overexamining my life as one might pour over a road map

because the future extends in so many directions

and it frightens me.

I am a child

thrown into a new world,

a new experience,

unprepared.

Now I’m scared

because you learned my secrets, and you can divulge them;

because I opened myself to you, and you,

while you blame me for overreacting

for holding on even though you do the same

and it’s tearing me apart

because you’re so hypocritical,

and I’m pulling my hair out

and I don’t want to be afraid,

but I don’t know how not to be.

Out

as a candle

dims and breathes its last

dark gray curl of smoke.

Out of the clutter,

the hands of loved ones

not to far off,

the bookshelves standing

like sentinels,

the bedroom walls boarding your body in,

but not your breath,

not your spirit.

You were not afraid.

Fear of death

is for the young people.

You lived long enough, well

enough. It was time

to say goodbye

to it all.

And so you did.

When you enter,

you step into yourself

and confront all the things

that you’ve kept buried.

Green-brown spires 

with their limbs- gnarled like weeds-

cast shadows, block

out the sunlight-you must search for it.

The brown path is not worn,

the ground is cold, 

and singing seems pointless here,

because the wizened trees of your mind

will suck the joy out of the tune

and reduce your voice to a stammer.

 

Know

that there are more people 

than solely you in this forest.

All paths intertwine,

and people are never alone.

But be careful what you say

as you stumble through the woods;

you never know what innocent children

will hear your curses

from the thicket on the other side.

And so I have to put aside

what fantasies I had.

And so I must try to silence the voice

in me that says “I’m yours.”

And so I must try to look at you

without blushing.

I must try to fight the urge to hold your hand,

to fawn over your smile,

to talk to you

simply because I like the way you talk.

I feel sad,

though I shouldn’t.

I haven’t lost anything,

not really.

I’ve gained a friend.

That’s something.

So,

I’m alright.

Windless stillness,

silence.

Sunlight slices through

dense clumps of silver.

Light perforated

only by gray, almost transparent

shadows- long and thin

shadows of trees.

The earth is wearing out its

white play-clothes.

They have gravel stains,

dirt stains,

and the beating heart

of its grasses is turning

as it enters REM sleep.

Earth is dreaming of when

she will burst from the womb,

naked and beautiful,

and will grow its emerald hair

long.

And will decorate itself in jewels of color-

blossoms

and leaves.