Monday, November 24, 2008

on endings


somewhere i have never traveled

e.e. cummings

somewhere i have never traveled, gladly beyond
any experience,your eyes have their silence:
in your most frail gesture are things which enclose me,
or which i cannot touch because they are too near

your slightest look will easily unclose me
though i have closed myself as fingers,
you open always petal by petal myself as Spring opens
(touching skilfully,mysteriously)her first rose

or if your wish be to close me, i and
my life will shut very beautifully ,suddenly,
as when the heart of this flower imagines
the snow carefully everywhere descending;
nothing which we are to perceive in this world equals
the power of your intense fragility:whose texture
compels me with the color of its countries,
rendering death and forever with each breathing

(i do not know what it is about you that closes
and opens;only something in me understands
the voice of your eyes is deeper than all roses)
nobody,not even the rain,has such small hands


The last line of this poem has become one of my favorites. Ending a poem (or relationship) is such an unforgiving process. I find myself at the end, where I have decided the end should be, undone with worry; maybe just another line, another stanza, maybe I should ride this out until it makes itself clear to me. There is cliche that poems are never finished, just abandoned. I imagine endings should be graceful and invoke a longing, strum a chord within. That is probably a lifelong process of discovery. . .

Kimberly Dark's CD release party was a success last night. I shared the stage with a truly talented group of performers.


Miss Misery
Elliott Smith

1 comment:

strum the sky said...

Relationships are never "finished," either... just abandoned