“Not Yet Midnight”

This cabin is a mess, clothes and books strewn about, but I can’t imagine cleaning it.
There have been nights when the music of crickets has brought me to tears;
Tonight I look back on my weeping with pitiless scorn,
And I look on my despair with detached indifference.
My pain feels like it belongs to someone else who I don’t even know well.

I remember nights when I’ve roamed the town, looking for music to dance to,
And the wild-eyed despair of drunks I do not know has filled my heart with tears.
I can no longer weep for the pain of someone I do not even know,
I can no longer feel that anyone belongs anywhere,
I can no longer listen to the sounds of night and feel silence deep within me.

It is Friday, not yet midnight.
If I went down to town I could probably find a place to dance for an hour or two.
In fifty years I won’t be able to dance like I can now; Maybe I will not be able
To dance at all. If I am living, I hope I will not be speaking.
These are the thoughts that came just now when I thought about dancing.

I want to feel that everyone belongs somewhere,
I want to listen to the sounds of night and feel silence reverberate all through me,
I want to weep for the pain of all the ones I do not know and will never understand.
I remember evenings when I’ve sat naked on Spruce Mountain, looking down on town,
And the sun going down on me has filled my heart with glowing laughter.

“Feel the Sound”

Was I once found?
Am I now lost?
I’ve heard for too long
of what has been lost.
Now I listen
for what can’t be found.

I do respect the thoughtfully worded phrase,
but how much more
do I respect the heartfully felt sound!

How can I feel this sound and be lost?

Listen for a moment.
See
if you can feel
the sound.
You might hear it more clearly
if you put
your ear
to the ground.

Did I once have?
Have I now lost?

What I have lost is precious to me,
more precious than what I have now.
To have is fine while it lasts,
but to have lost is to begin
re-finding,
redefining where your worth is,
realigning with your purpose.

This is how I redefine your words.
When you say you are close to a breakdown,
I hear ‘breakthrough.’
When you tell me you are in the middle of a crisis,
I hear ‘creative tension.’
When you feel hopeless of ever understanding,
I hear ‘recovering the mystery.’

But you do not need me to redefine your words,
or to remind you of your worth,
do you?

No.
But in case you’d like a reminder,
here:
When you look at me intensely and say nothing,
I hear ‘I am here,’
and I feel your distinct sound;
I let go of all I’ve lost,
and I embrace what can’t be found.