Song 8 falls under the second movement, “Becoming,” a word that can be interpreted as either positive or negative. Becoming cynical. Becoming ruthless. Becoming kind. Becoming generous. Read this segment asking whether the Song falls to one side or the other or partially in both. The title of the Song, “Endings and Transitions,” also merits consideration. What has ended? What do the transitions look like? On a journey such as this one, “endings” call to mind a dead-end road, and transitions serving as bridges between what has disappeared and what is yet to come.
SECOND MOVEMENT
BECOMING
SONG 8
ENDINGS AND TRANSITIONS
and pillow my muddled head on my knees
sobbing into my dark nauseous center
hollow, hopeless, and void of remedy
I rock myself cradling sorrow and regret
two entwined vipers within my emptiness
I spend night’s last hours on the river bank
swaying between exhaustion and fresh tears
I am ambered like an ant in resin
I cannot sort out this nameless lesson
I have nowhere to go without my friend
I’m anchored to this place we walked as one
I want to stay – linger in the dying heat
If I leave this shore, I walk away from Hart
forever – a dream I raised up, then drove off
for a bottle and bad soup on a stove
Why didn’t I veer away instantly
when we saw that puzzling water serpent?
How could I leave my only friend and run
with that woman and her wicked madness?
I would go back and kill her if the thought
of touching her did not revolt me so
But it wasn’t her – truly, it was me
who hungered for her poison low and foul
She was just there -- conveniently at hand
I’m the one who left, going into dark
I’m the one who broke friend and my two hearts
I watch the sun rise and wonder why it does
Everything is finished. Days meaningless
I did not see how fragile all this was
We are all just green tender onion plants
open and ripe for harsh hands to uproot
At noon I think of going after Hart
At dusk I still sit and rock on the shore
When dark comes, I crawl into the red boat
pulling a blanket and the canvas sail
over me wishing not to wake again
knowing I will, though I am two days dead
Diving deeper into the watery void
the sea’s weight presses on me like a stone
hand over hand I follow to anchor’s rode
down down and deep to the floor of the sea
the rough steel links a forged weight and sinking
each one a question -- darkening thinking
At hull-crushing depth I find the anchor’s
claws clutching sand like dragon-gold talons
My ship rocks far above – ghost floating pale
Her rigging stands soundless unmoved by wind
as she glides tethered under folded sail
No compass point to direct the right tack
The sea before me — the sea at my back
When I wake, I build a small warming fire
The wind blusters up and rain clouds hang low
I squat huddled in a blanket staring
at the red boat and all she could have been
Now she may as well be a funeral ship
that ferries me to hell for what I’ve done
Hell can bring no worse than this betrayal
What more hideous scenes could I conjure up?
Instantly I answer this inquiry
Nothing
anywhere
ever again
The fire slow-burns to smoldering embers
I place a sturdy stick’s tip on the edge
and lay more sticks across the dying glow
I walk to the red boat’s bow and kneel there
with the blackened stick and write four letters
on the starboard hull – repeat them on port
Each stick flickers and sparks – I grasp each one
by its unlit end and blow on the flames
as one by one I burn the four letters
scorching red paint to black on the hull’s wood
I smudge with fire to scar and cauterize
with no hope to heal the wound coiled inside
from what I have done and what will never be
So, now I have the heart to start again
downriver – away from Hart’s memory
For some time more, I sit staring at Hart’s
name seared onto the boat – letters ragged
and uneven – much like I am right now
I push off when rain falls and thunder sounds
close and low announcing plunging lightning’s
jagged bolts trace paths across veiling clouds
with forceful promises of drenching rain
as I set off due south on fire with pain
Soon I see the fatal inlet channel
and pull hard to be clear of it and her
Once past the channel mouth I keep stroking
putting distance, not forgiveness, between
The day’s rain falls steadily persistent
I receive it like an unsought blessing
pouring ointment on my weary body
deserted banks bind my central passage
pushing into unknown welcome waters
on the rising current’s relentless back
An unseen watcher would see me drifting
and think ‘what a fool’ – and it’s true – I am
Who but an outrageous fool would not see
the risk of loss before its run began?
A more tender lookout might see me pass
and call out and urge me to pull for shore
where I’d be treated as the homeless one
in need of pity – which I surely am
But no one looks out from the river bank
No generous guide appears to set my course
This is as it should be for one like me
I have charted maps to my own problems
I have strewn -- now pilot -- my own debris
Background
Remorse and regret are powerful emotions, to say the least. They can stop a life in its tracks, ambering a person in the event that results in the remorse or regret. Some who experience these emotions never find their way clear of them, and can be haunted even to dying and death. Remorse and regret are extremely personal experiences, and involve blaming self rather than rationalizing others’ complicity. Remorse and regret make for a harsh world.
If a person can honestly say that he/she has lived with no regrets, it may be wise not to trust such a person. Who can chart a path through life so righteous and clear that these feelings never appear? Even children have regrets and feel remorse. Due to their relative innocence, perhaps they experience these with more intensity. In any case, this segment of The One invites you to take a deep dive into the territory experienced by the main character.
Exploration 1: Do you find it plausible that the main character is as distraught as the description in this section implies?
Exploration 2: Considering the main character’s deep regret, who is at fault for the scenario that created this regret: the MC, Hart, the “hag”?
Exploration 3: This Song falls under the Second Movement, “Becoming.” What or who has the main character become at this point?
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