Dorte's fabulous Christmas tree from Denmark. And those are real candles. Dorte assured me no serious fire had ever taken place but sometimes the tree browns prematurely. Thanks, Dorte. Have a wonderful Christmas.
Patrick O'Leary's poem below is based on our Friday night writing group's grappling with the big picture. Thank you for sharing your poem.
THE BIG THING AT THE END
The one time I ever fainted
she said
I was furious when they woke me
We laughed that laugh
when you want to hold someone
& say Yes I know yes Yes it’s awful
& it may not get better
but we laughed instead
& someone said my friend
was dying from an overdose of penicillin
& he felt nothing but ecstasy
& another said yes
my friend felt the same
when she was drowning
on a perfect summer day
& someone asked what possible
evolutionary purpose
could such a reprieve serve?
Couldn’t it all be random?
But it nagged us nonetheless
that in our final passage
we might go gently
& I noticed no one dared
to tender the possibility of
a merciful manager of
survival dispensing relief
though that is what some of us
actually believe or hope
& then our friend whose mother
had survived the camps said
Perhaps it’s not for us
but for the predator
rewarding his catch
by pacifying his prey
(who after all is caught)
hastening the transition
from creature to meal
This seemed so shocking
& apt it silenced us
on this lovely evening when
we huddled around
our civilized fire
of coffee cheese & crackers
telling stories of precipices
reassuring the tribe
with tales of great escapes
thrilling chases & close calls
which if one is honest
form the spine of all story
& I believe each of us
became aware
for the briefest moment
of that larger thing
hovering outside
in the brutal winter
& the darker dark
who occasionally listened in
on our little group
of story makers
sometimes observing
our lively heads chatting
in the golden windows
of the night
& thought
Let them talk
Let them talk their heads off
6 comments:
Beautiful, beautiful poem. I just sent this link to several people I know who will appreciate it.
And now that's a Christmas tree.
Oh yeah, like this one a lot. I've had similar thoughts in the dark of night. Just haven't expressed it so well.
I love how he captured that night and what we said, the whole feeling of it.
This poem gets at some of what might be my favorite R. A. Lafferty short story, "Fog in My Throat," also gets at.
Wonderful poem, and I like that echo of Dylan Thomas´ poem, Don´t go gentle ...
And it is fun to see our Christmas tree achieve a bit of fame :D
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