I’m Not Here

April 25, 2010 § 3 Comments

Photo by Dutchy, iStockphoto 4619291

and it was never a mountain.

I never perceived its turning shoulder,
the boil of its soil,
its breath, or its swell.

Flat and painted on,
it was behind a realer life.
It was beneath a scenic drive.

And the streets are not rivers.

We’re not tadpoles or eels
or water beetles,
swimmering and paddling
past reed people on a pale shore.

Dressed
in their Wednesday bible study best,
these are a clump of middle aged couples
gathered at the corner, chatting pleasantly,
as if the evening were sultry.

They are stretching out the good parts
to make them longer.

I brush a billowing end as I pass:
It takes me away
and brings me back

to the scent of a pipe,
rolling acorns in the palm,
the sea in my mouth,
and a mountain that waits
to be touched.

.

.

.

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§ 3 Responses to I’m Not Here

  • Rachael Sullivan says:

    It might speak to timelessness. Universal collective soul, perhaps? Ancient memories. Everything started from nothing and will return to nothing, or at least to something completely different, like the mountain that never was a mountain after all? It’s beautiful, really. I read it over and over and the mood changed each time- each time it was more clear and yet brought up more questions.

    • penina says:

      Thanks so much for taking the time to read and think about this, Rachael. The most important thing for me is that it *does* speak, has a voice. I love that you’re someone who enjoys questions :-)

  • Joe Rodgers says:

    They are stretching out the good parts
    to make them longer.
    It takes me away
    and brings me back
    I love those 4 lines. Stretching out the good parts is the way we should perhaps approach life. Now that I am older and see the tragedy, sadness and transitory nature of life.
    It takes me away
    and brings me back

    Those two lines are just beautiful. They take my breath away.

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