Saturday, January 9, 2010

poem from Steve

I was reading through old journal entries and found this poem my Steve wrote for me.

I am hanging up the phone
and I'm looking for a conversation to go out on.

"Don't forget to call Jordan."

What would be enough
if we never spoke again? Not that.

"See ya later."
It sounds cursory because it is.

"Love you."
It seems like such a hollow platitude.

And still... I'm looking for a conversation to go out on.

Maybe it's the hunger to be remembered:
To not be forgettable, and yet, to not be forgotten.
But it's more than that I think.

"The kids'll be fine."
"I'll stop at the bank."
I can't go out on any of these.

It's hard to have the last work spoken
not be banal or cliche.

The silence is awkward.
But all language seems bankrupt.
Words have no strength to hold
the weight of what should be said
but can't be found to say.

"That'll have to wait."
"I can't talk about it now."

So maybe there is just no way to say it.

I want to say that my life began when you spoke my name with something like interest.
I could go out on that.

I want to say that my will ended
at the doorstep of your heart.
That I was made who I am all along the way
I've walked with you.

but all my words are crippled, hapless,
forlorn and freightless.
So I say, "I'll call you when I land."
And I hope you heard me.


Krissi said...

I love that yours is such a writing family. So much richness for your future descendants to bask in.

Anonymous said...

Your blog keeps getting better and better! Your older articles are not as good as newer ones you have a lot more creativity and originality now keep it up!

Marilyn said...

I beg to differ. I feel like my blogs have been un-creative of late, that my soul is not 'shipping' out but has deflated a little and is under a quilt inside me.

Krissi said...

My blog has been slack too. Maybe it's in the air.

Anna said...

Nice poem. I like it. :)

Mrs Moose said...

ok. it's time someone steps in and comments about the POST. you know, the POST ... the BEAUTY of the poem ... and the turmoil to express unending devotion, and the insufficiency of words, and of a lifetime of stories that can't be told, and moments unredeemed and missed, and confessions of a desperate love, and ...

Come on, people. Focus.

Marilyn said...

love your pic Mrs Moose. of course, that is not about the poem either.