https://m.youtube.com/watch?v=2tEYRi2Rd8w
SPIRIT OF PAST
———————
Near dead in your heart
but it grieves
all of the nurture
you didn’t receive.
The camera zooms down
on our rear gazing clown
and we all could perceive
although humour deceives,
his spirit of past
planted pain.
A deer steps with care
in your wood.
Walking on eggshells
she pricks for the
sharpshot,
ever alert
as you were.
So you are,
sniffing the air for deceit,
biting the hand lest they
bite on your tush.
Delicate features
but no nestling pet,
scenting, spellbinding,
galloping,
poof.
I get your essence
as you have got mine,
still do not care as I give it.
I can make more
and so too do you,
though stuff made in transit
is somewhat dilute.
I’m not swift in transit,
it’s your turn to shoot.
So pray, what goes on
with your brain?
I now live to fear
that I’ll outlive you, dear.
Why must you keep
changing the game?
You’re right that survival is key
well maybe for you, not for me-
I simply don’t care,
that leaves you perplexed,
transfixed in my commuted
gaze.
Your forest will die
when you’re gone.
One at a time
the trees will come down,
the men won’t perceive
because size can deceive,
that more than as mother and wife,
your spirit of past
planted life.
Copyright Runningonempty.
Peter Paul Rubens- A forest at dawn with a deer hunt.
https://www.metmuseum.org/art/collection/search/437526
5 comments:
A sad and touching poem.
It came from a comment someone made. As usual my subconscious...
but it does get me thinking , what do we leave behind? When your child is adhd and doesn’t remember you spent a fortune on them , or that you gave up your career, oh well, better if I don’t think about it too much.
It does provoke a good deal of thought. Very nicely done.
How incredibly beautiful. I got goosebumps reading this. When will we ever learn
Thankyou Jeanie. That means alot. Welcome and Thankyou, Michelle, I hope you will be a repeat visitor.
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