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8 April 19 - The One – “Song 4: Separation” Segment 1

Today’s post leads us into entirely new territory. The main character matures, if only slowly; however, at least the vocabulary used indicates a growing intelligence and awareness, and the budding of an independent being is observable. In this Song, the epic enters a full and accessible narrative – a story that begs to be read. More characters appear, and the scenes and events – even dialogue – become robust. A lot happens in this Song, including the beginning of the young person’s breakaway from hearth and home. Please be prepared that with all this going on, the Songs generally present longer from here on; for example, this “Song 4” is over 11,000 words, five times longer than any Song before it. We’ll be breaking that chunk down into five sequential segments, except for one guest-poet post at about the middle of the five segments for a respite.



~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Today I wake and know that time has come
Something out there and I must see its face
            beneath the chilled floor of this living place
                        stretched deep, narrowing to a blunt-end point
                                    sunken cellar, hollowed out muddy earth

As a child, I feared this earth-tapered vault
            and would not go down without someone else
                        with trap door open to let in the light
            trembling all the while until I emerged
Today, I must go in to bring it out
            some dark matter waits there for me, I’m sure
            some red and black force that will not surface
                        cannot reveal itself by law or choice
So, I must go in to harrow it out
            must dive in headfirst, submerge completely
            not dally scraping dirt along the edge
                        pull the door closed behind me, blocked by thin
                        wedge to be my latchkey when I ascend

I rush to the cellar straight from my bed
            long before all others wake to the day
                        and see what I’m doing – try to stop me
                        from going where I must go – now – today
The heavy slant door smells moist and mildewed
            as I slide the bolt back and lift the boards
            I breach the gloom, then jam a wooden wedge
            to allow a fingerhold but no light

Inside the muffled chamber all round dark
            my eyes strain for shape-shreds but none appear    
my scraping feet the only outer sound
Inside, my heart pounds blood against my ears
A clear way between shelves but narrow too
            I feel my way stooping toward the rear
            where the shelving stops and damp earth begins
            Here I sit, tuck my knees to chest – listen

My heartbeat thumping loud against my ears
Breath rustling in and out my nose hairs
I’m determined to hear the sound of what
            makes this hole its home – it must be right here!
At once fear roars up my throat hard and hot
            and sticks there in a choking lump swabbing
            all the wetness from my mouth – afraid, I
            try to quiet heart and breath to listen 

I am desperate to silence all my noise
Press breath down and quiet so I can hear
I assure myself that I can leave here
            when I choose – nothing stops me from going
now or later – but I want to get out 
            suddenly and be in the calming light
At last, I simply stay    and breathe      and wait

I recall and count the reasons I’m here
            One – I need a place where I am alone
                        away from shouting, noise and endless chores
When the others find me sitting, they make
                                    work for me as if thinking’s not allowed
                                    as if working takes dangerous thoughts away
            Two – when I ask why I must do as told
                        why what I am and do is not enough,
                        they say “forget it” or “strange question” and
                        I get no answers there – that’s why I’ve come
            Three – I don’t fit in – everyone says so
                        No one asks what I like or even care
                                    but I can’t help but ask for I must know
                                    must surface out of endless confusion      
                                    make sense of messages thatcome in dreams

I shake myself, relax, breathe in slowly
            Soon I am somewhat sure no cold corpse arms
                        will grab me and drag me deep under earth
            Whatever lives here doesn’t want to harm me
                        or I would already be dead or worse

Forcing relaxation, I notice thoughts
            tumbling over one another bumping
            interrupting until my attention
            bursts into fragments with no direction
            rather blocking logic and intention
Such stupidity’s annoying and must
            be tamed, so I view all this commotion
            like the confusing noises of people
                        I’m forced to listen to, so like with them
                        I tune my ears and muffle to a thrum
                        inside, the noises quiet to a hum

As sounds fade and retreat, I listen hard
            and the clatter dries up like a puddle
            then a high-pitched silvery note – fiery thin – 
like an airborne beacon that does not change
“What is that?” I ask listening close again
It sounds familiar like I should know it
I press my palms tight on my ears but this
            makes the note louder and I am surprised
            to find the sound not out there but within!
I turn fore and aft to find any change
            but all directions sound back just the same
            as I try standing, sitting, and lying down
The tone holds constantly one silver sound



I feel safe when listening to the silver
            as if it has always been here – not just
            now, but with me from before I came here
I could listen for hours to this sound core
            to this long, grace-note ring, sending steady
            clear, star-glazed radiance ringing down through me
I think this sound envelops what I want
            to know, so I listen harder and try
            to follow wherever the note goes
Now the pitch steadies deeper, dissolving
            thoughts into patterns that filter the crazy
            and ring truly to show me right and strong


Now rises an uncommon composition . . .

            I need to know too much that is not here
            Others can’t know and hide under laughter
            They point at me when they cannot explain
            I am different and that will not change

I sit up straight and frightened at this rush
            of these things I have known but could not say
            all the hints and hunches I’ve pushed away
Words tumbling out of darkness all at once
one silver resonance of certainty
every word a precious actuality
The note gathers up pieces and presses
            them into hard white stones and yellow pearls
            all hung glittering from unfurled white sails 
I glimpse what I quake to think I cannot 
do at all, and must be done all at once
This makes me dizzy and I start to sweat

Suddenly I need air – breeze on my face
I jump up from crouching and hit my head
            stumbling, crashing into shelves and toppling
            pots, bags tumbling, confusion in the dark
I lose my way and for a panic-stricken
            moment I cannot tell the one way out
            so, I feel my way along the damp walls
            until I reach the taller end and touch
            redeeming door where my body falls, rights

Relieved, I push but it does not open
It is stuck or blocked or something heavy
lies across it – in a panic, I push
with all my strength and one thin blink of light
an inch slips through the crack – the door crashes
a thud of darkness, my eyes still flaring
I am shut in – trapped – helpless – no one knows

A damp breath prickles cold all down my back
I am terrified, frozen, stunned, can’t move
I am dead – buried alive! – in my grave!
A whimper escapes in spite of myself
I clamp my mouth before I cry for help
I will not cry or scream and have them laugh
I will die here first and then they will find
            my bones poking through my rotting flesh and . . . 
“Stop it!” I warn myself out loud – me with
panicked baby voice about to burst out
loud and whining at this slightest setback

I slump down in a squat to think and fret
I could wait until I am missed – but then
            who would know where to look, and I won’t shout
            or shriek or yell, not even to get out
I could stay until someone else comes in
for any reason.  How long will that be? 
No, I must rescue myself. Yes, that’s it!
            I must make a move now – figure it out
I start hurried groping in total, perfect dark
I feel poles, sticks, boards, baskets and more pots
some of which I might use to pry the door –  
brace it up – make a space to slide me through 

I carry a heavy stick to the door 
doubling my strength, I push against the weight
enough to slide the stick in between and
persist, pace by pace, to build my path up
toward the light and when I’ve opened a gap
I carefully squeeze my whole body out – 
I’m through! I stand wet, gasping, I see it – 
            a shape lying beside the cellar door 
where someone has dropped a huge, heavy bag
of potatoes by carelessness or with
intent to hurt me, I can’t be certain

But it does not matter.  I have rescued 
myself, released myself, set myself free
            and if I can do this, I think, then I
            can leave this place – these people – someday soon
They cannot hold me here against my will
I do not know how I will leave or when
but I will           Yes, I will          I will 
            ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
No one asks where I have been all these hours
No one notices any change in me
They don’t see that I am already gone
            packed up, no goodbyes, no tears – on the run

That night . . .
I sail toward the ones already at sea
breaking through freezing spray and shuddering waves
my diamond prow splits ice – trails jagged shards
I can hear the shanties on the shrill wind
                        I am coming         I am coming
                        though my wings are pinned
I am headed home – out of nearby dark
My tribe will know me by our common mark
My bow is pointed toward my own country
white wings tacking toward pale eternity

A single journey – a voyage of One
Four thousand years of sailing the sea way
Landless gull contouring the dusky waves
simply and truly exploring toward home
I think back on shores of driftwood and stone
beaten by clear ice and salt-crusted waves
under heaving heart of white-breasted foam
and the graceful ribbed flesh of wild ocean

When I wake, sadness is wider between
who I am and that bright sailor to be
A wider gap between the steps I walk
and the others I want to leave behind.
I say little to them that is not shouts
They favor me with the same, and I just
dream and wait, and brew my future alone
by the dark-found compass I’ll always trust

Background
Discovery is the name of the maturing person’s nature. So much to explore; more to be discovered. “Separation” begins with the need to part ways, as most healthy young persons wish to do. Something more is going on here; however, and the reasons for the wish for departure are more intense and stranger than usual. A sense of destiny and of failing to be in the “right” place permeate this Song. It may be worth considering whether or not most young people do want to “separate” in the same way and for the same reasons as does our protagonist. Or is this all fantasy, and if you were to talk to the main character, would you say that the better course is to just settle down and “get real.” Herein lies one of life’s defining questions and forks in the road.

Exploration 1: Why must the main character go into the cellar? What is there? Is literary symbolism involved here?

Exploration 2: What is the conflict with the place and people where the protagonist lives? Are there familiar echoes for you?

Exploration 3: Does this Song resonate with the issues of adolescence? If so, do you know (or have you known) any person who experienced such issues?

Exploration 4: Why are some sections italicized? Is it the same reason as in prior Songs?

Songs 1-3 can be read in sequence here.

Comments

  1. I see this visit to the cellar as the child's confrontation with approaching adulthood. "No one understands me." Even benign parents can seem oppressive.
    The italicized lines seem to work the same way as in previous sections. A shift to the other world that's in this one.
    Bring a flashlight the next time you go into the cellar.

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    Replies
    1. As usual, Mr. Chairman, you are right on target, except for the flashlight. I suggest that kids this age are neither practical enough to remember such a tool nor do they eschew the dark and spooky; in fact, in my experience, they seek it out. But what do I know; I've never been a parent. And yes, to your interpretation of the italics: surely "the other world" is always just around the next dark corner.

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  2. This song sings in me! Through my own youth and in my children. The first reason for going to the cellar reminds me of Luke, who needs his quiet more than anyone in our house.

    While I can see how the cellar is a literary device, I read it as an actual place. Don't we seek the places that still our minds?

    My favorite part is the silver voice and I think the italics are that voice.

    The cacophony of the daily grind drowns out the voice within. To seek silence and solace susses out the voice of the One. We all need that, but few heed the call. Our adolescence compels us to answer the call, but with the woo of adulthood, I would say that few do.

    It's a beautiful song, Catherine. Both sad and hopeful. Powerless and powerful. This paradox is the very essence of youth, no?

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    Replies
    1. Kim, I am so pleased that this Song "sings in" you. If you like this segment, just wait until farther on into this Song - and beyond - I hope the experience for you will be like a brilliant sun rising from the horizon.

      Yes, this Song intends to capture those youthful years when adventures are created out of almost nothing. Those of us who can still resonate with our own youth (perhaps through children) are fortunate indeed. Obviously, you have that gift.

      You have exactly captured that luminescent place between childhood and early adulthood One of the aspects of this time is belief in the fantastical which is where the thoughts and voices (silver one) integrate into everyday "reality." Ergo the italics which will continue throughout this epic.

      I agree with your interpretation of "paradox." Some never listen to the "other world" side; others, like artists, never stop listening.

      And oh, yes, the cellar is a real place.

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