Parapraxis Picked
Teetering on the tight rope –
Stretched between here and there –
Like prehensile tails my toes
Form around the cord, clinging
In the hope of love; of a moment
That will warm my heart and
Ease the torment that I live with,
Or the flash of divine intervention
That will cleanse everything I see
In one magnificent outburst
That, like x-rays, will penetrate all
That exists – all that has been created.
Youth has left me, dried and regretful
I call it nostalgia but it is more –
It is the recognition of what is lost
And may never be again:
Like the gentle breath of Robert
Who, on Sunday, died all alone.
Or blessed passion spent upon
Make-believe clouds of her desire.
The smoothness of youthful flesh,
The stamina of sprightly muscles,
The infinity of the far off horizon –
The ignorance of sybaritic youth.
Arms outstretched to balance
The passage from here to there,
Aching from ancient exertion,
From stiffened veins and skin.
In my mind there is the torment
Of a question – like so much more,
Never ever spoken or revealed –
That whispers incessant in my ears,
“Can I hang on long enough
To reach the end unbroken?”
Or will I fall – to be finally captured
By Hades regurgitating floor?
ασυνειδητη πραξη παραπραξια
in Greek, an act without conscious intention, am I correct? so in a way we are captured by Hades regurgitating floor ‘chasing the other horizon’ to echo Supratik, since there are two opposite horizons both ultimately as vain as the floor, the one chases the horizon of life the other of death – over and over again. it can be done without a rope which reminds me of Batman. a spiritual poem and psychoanalytical. love death without fear of life and love life without fear of death or despise both without affection for either.
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KXxw-zXRqOs
Thank you for your response, Nicoletta. I am grateful for your input. My explanation would be that this is a continuation of a theme on balance that has been pestering my thoughts of late. I had the first two lines in my head for a day or so, and when I started putting them down on paper, so to speak, the rest just tumbled out. The first stanza I think is self explanatory, and truthfully described how I was feeling about existence at the time – on both sides of the bridge (‘tightrope’). The sense of loss that I feel… Read more »
I will have to read this sitting by the fire tonight and saviour the passage of this poem. A poem full of emotion, pathos, and longing.
This was the standout piece for me:
“blessed passion spent upon
Make-believe clouds of her desire.”
bhi
Thank you so much for your comment, Bhi. I have laid my soul as bare as I feel comfortable in that second stanza – for example, Robert was my father-in-law who passed away last Sunday – his body was discovered hours later. He was alone when he passed, bless him. Blessed passion on the other hand involves spiritual, mental and physical aspects of relationships. I feel you have ‘hit the nail on the head’ with your use of the word ‘longing’. It doesn’t describe everything I was feeling when I penned this, but it struck me that you were right.… Read more »
Life, balancing on the tight rope; and where is it anchored – from where to there? Is it the price we pay, that we can recall, regret? To live in the moment – how difficult; this has been a piece to give thought to – much thought and contemplation.
Perhaps I have given much of the ‘game away’ in my comments above, Dodgem. Yes, you are right: Where is ‘there’ if I am here? It is that sense of loss that I feel exists on both the physical and the spiritual at one and the same time. In the earthly sense it is quite easy to recall things that you loved, enjoyed, felt deeply about (in all manner of ways) and feel a sense of loss about – because they are passed in the physical, and that is what we are living in. The spiritual, on the other hand,… Read more »
OMG! I so relate. We walk the tightrope all our days …between life and death, between infuriating some by being ourselves or keeping that part private at personal expense. To suit whom? I always said that poverty descended on me like a night’s caress. By that I mean that when I left my husband, I really believed all would be well financially and I believed that mirage as bit by bit all material security was stripped away until I was going down the back of the settee and coat pockets for loose change. Same as youth…. We are in one… Read more »
Alison, what a wonderful comment. I am so grateful to you for taking the time, not only to comment but also to explain how some of my words mirrored in your mind and life. Apart from the opening two lines, this flowed from my proverbial pen like water under a bridge. I hope that I will emerge from this period of retrospection stronger and understanding myself, and my place in my reality, better. How many times have I heard that you never know what is around the next corner? We know what it means, but it isn’t until later in… Read more »