After A Long Time Away


The first language was loss, the second sorrow,

this is the last, then

     C. K. Williams, "Ignorance"



He is surprised to realize that he no longer

Thinks of distance or the days and places

Of a different life, having come to a quiet

Not quite his own yet but nearly so, where

The light here is still there, the same fields

And farms, pines and hawks, but the dark

A deeper rest than he ever knew, solitude

Not a separation of two but the solace of

One who has come to the love of himself,

The gratitude for both hurt and healing,

And the knowing of home now not as where

But who he is, forgiveness for what they were.


Poetry by countryfog
Read 932 times
Written on 2015-10-16 at 13:35

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This peaceful poem places me in a meditative mood, my friend. As always, I love the keywords you use to form description, providing a very apt location for the mindscape detailed afterwards. I particularly like the notion that home is who, not where, we are. Serene applause from BBP :-) :>)

Jamsbo Rockda The PoetBay support member heart!
Acceptance, understanding, forgiveness and satisfaction. What else can one ask for. It must be a wonderful place to be in.

a very enjoyable and beautiful, text deep in its meaning i guess

Brian Oarr
A lovely poem, CF, one which has a subtle calming effect upon my subconscious.

I do have one tiny criticism ... I find that starting each line with a capital letter cause breakups in the reading of your piece. I question ... do the caps really serve a purpose?

I feel a sense of calm after reading this, it soothes the soul, thank you.

Lawrence Beck The PoetBay support member heart!
Exactly! This is word perfect. I hope to reach such a home someday.

one trick pony The PoetBay support member heart!
this brings to mind a poem, for the life of me i cannot remember which poem and by whom. but this is an echo of your poem i think:

Not one care in mind all year
I find enough joy every day in my hut
and after a meal and a pot of strong tea
I sit on a rock by the pond and count fish

i think you know who wrote this, not han shan. another familiar.


but i was thinking of something else. you and the mystery writer above are writing of being in the moment, and content. i'm thinking of the next step, when even the moment disappears, and then . . . what? you fly away, you become one with the cosmos? i don't know, but your poem feels very much like a penultimate step, and something profound is waiting, if only you (one) can reach out, or disappear within, entirely.

maybe the poem of which i'm thinking is yet to be written.

either way, yours is a lovely poem. the sense of place, and home, is tangible. real.

It seems a very healing place to be:)