Thursday, September 28, 2017

The Forest


I fell in love with you

On the day half the forest disappeared


In this little patch of woods behind the bikepath

Back when the forest was complete

Right on what is now the border between tall slim trees

And stubby muddy expanses

Was the place I first felt the Mother

God

Reach out her hand to soothe

Another broken heart of mine

Many years ago

As I lay with my face pressed to the forest floor


Now when I call on Her to guide me

Again through the terrible love for

A disappearing man


I remember letting you, a stranger, see my tears

For the violated forest

Naively assuming that men honour forests and hearts

forever


The things that disappear through men’s fears and women’s tears

The sacred slaughtered groves


I call on Her still

She is far greater than the stranger by the road

Or the clear cut strewn with garbage

She is the new green leaves
And the sky in the spring
And -

and, again

Oh...
here it comes
poetry!
flinally
after months of self-deception

here it comes
the poetic wave where
my heart bursts with love for myself
and a thousand memories of love
flash in
far 
from the past

snowy night on King st outside the Starlight Night Club
the sky glittering
with his head on my shoulder
or just
us all
roving in high heeled crews
feeling old
when we were so, so young
or,
perhaps, in the middle age of young
too old to be young
but with no idea what was in store for us
how long life can sometimes be
(if we're lucky)
and how lonely it can get

that moment in 2008 
at 2 am at the jane bond
when I thought, my life is just going to be a 
bad canadian indie movie
and whatever happens,
i will end up here again
alone with a friend under the neon lights

or wandering home in the snow
with her,
my lost sister
and all that orbitted around us
from the first plaforms I bought at the Rideau Centre
with her
and the walks we took along the canal
or late nights coming home from the Revolution nightclub
past Macdonalds
or tears in the hallway

all that, 
so much
from 1998 to 2009
at least
and a bit before, 
and a bit after
before: alone, in the domestic wild corners of Ottawa, the edges of the river
the tree by the highway
after: somewhere in Waterloo, alone, beloved trees and rolling hills 
the highway that sounds like a river
and the chronicles of narnia
long winter walks
birds in the snow, bright red or yellow

and of course,
him

for a while

all this poetry buried within me
standing next to you at church in our best
hoping to be that nice mennonite girl

well,
i am old,
yes
older than you
wouldn't you like to see the world through my eyes?
there is so much to see 

but i have a past too
when I was your age
i was listening to this song
at the grocery store, maybe,
or at the jane bond
at 2 am, 
waiting, waiting for that person to love

and then
going home alone

you've probably gone home now too
from the place I would have been standing next to you
and i chose to stay inside
listening to this song
and remembering what it means
to be me