The One – Song 8: Endings and Transitions, Segment 2

Originally published October 07, 2019...

This installment, the second of three of Song 8, “Endings and Transitions,” finds our main character drifting south on the same river that flows out of Chickopee, far to the north. What this Song lacks in external action, it makes up with internal journeys and explorations. The MC decides that this journey is turning out to be just the ticket. Much musing goes on as both past and intended actions merge together in a seamless stream. For some, this part of the voyage may seem pointless, or lazy, or just plain uninteresting; however, if this is true, perhaps such a reader does not favor internal expeditions. Certainly, such excursions have their disadvantages and dangers, and can sometimes result in serious angst or worse. But like any passage, it is the risk that makes for both excitement, and experience gained.

Although Hart has departed, his presence lingers large. Jani and the earlier teacher make a very brief appearance in the MC’s thoughts. Unlike previous and upcoming Songs, this one has no high drama, dragons, or “bayou” hags. It does, however, deliver a deep view of the MC’s inner state which sets the stage for the upcoming outer adventures.

So, ready, set, dive . . . into the MC’s internal adventures. 

I drift on south in the sea’s direction

a thousand miles or more to that salt mouth

behind, a current I can’t beat against

ahead, a sea-course that only points south

For days I steer in the deepest channel

            eating little and sleeping even less

When the wind allows, the square-rigged canvas

            plows the boat’s nose deep into the river

                        leaving a white and turbid wake behind

When I fall asleep and graze the shallows

            I push my oar hard to faster running

When the current holds me, I sleep again

            dream of Hart, and but for me, what might have been

The sound of not is a bell in my ears

                                    slow-tolling this journey day after day

                                                pounding in my ears until blood appears

                                                            running warm down my neck coating my fears

                                                                        I hear faint echoes of the missing voice

                                                                        the weight of no one in the tarnished bed

                                                                        the wisp of breath lacks the beloved form

                                                                        the laugh in my eyes somewhere else, not here

                                                                        the white slate of dreams as dawn surges up

                        These absences shriek “not” in hollowed air

                                    “There is not time!  

  Do not turn back!  

  Do not go on!”

                        Lacking courage, I question, “Do I dare?

                                    and if I dare, how should I best begin?

                                    and beginning, how should I then proceed?

                                    and proceeding, how may I distinguish

                                                what is rightly done and what is not?”

                    I hear river-singing in triple voice 

These clear expressions may not sing for me

                        I see destiny’s fire, flame up and fall

                                    

“This is not what I meant at all

                                      This is not it at all”

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

One night I dream a Hart so real I swear

            he has forgiven me – come back to stay

            but when he speaks, it is not as I thought

“It is all right,” Hart says deep in the dream

            “You did what you could.  No one can do more.

              I will always see you here when you come.”

He’s not smiling but his voice is tender.

When I wake, my face feels wet – body flushed

Hart’s gone – never here – slipped away back there 

Days alone – gray squalls on the horizon

Snubbed waves’ lazy rhythm lap the boat

            I slouch in the red hull that keeps his name

                        as a marker so I will not betray

                                    one like him again and turn joy away

Where is the one I believed would soon come?

I still listen to that oldest story

            I’ve told myself all my life – that legend

                        about the rescuer who is coming

                        if I simply wait and watch long enough

I still ache for the one whose name is not

            is not Jani – is not Hart – is no name 

I still howl like a fired, black-limbed forest 

            burning for hidden names that must exist

The climbing sun has me on edge, searching

            for the answer in the river’s body

I slip beneath its perfect skin – softening

            pores and hair sheathed tight and liquid pliant

                        more loyal than any living lover 

                                    coupled like a believer, pledged faithful

In the distance I hear a harbor bell

            ringing sadly against the blue-orange sky’s 

                        encircled morning stars’ soundless singing

I am alone as I have often been

Somehow, for now, this is exactly right

I may have imagined Jani and Hart

            the bright-learned teacher, but not that hag

None are here.  I can’t say definitely

                        that three ever were.  Still, I am alive

                        swimming in this river close by my ship

This is where I’ve always wanted to be

I’m the one who created this – not them

I float on my back, head turned to one side

            one ear underwater hears the river’s

                        submerged heart pumping its fluid pressure

            one ear toward stars’ humming constant measure

My body buoyant with my hands circling 

            just enough to keep me afloat, hovering

                        between two sounds making my own music

                        half-sung to stars and half-breathed to water

                                    I journey upon you – you bear me up

                                    I sound your depths – you light the middle way

                                    I drink deeply – you are not diminished

Answers begin to rise like clear bubbles

No judgments, inquiries or scrutiny

I’m forgiven for being this alive

            whatever I may gather in my time

I feel newborn and innocent – ready

                        to begin in this moment and the next

                        and the moment after that – fresh and sea-green

Water and sky and a good boat between

            where each day I simply enter the stream

I swim back to Hart, lightly loft aboard

No answers required about where I’ve been          

            no verdicts about persons I’ve seen

Unexpectedly

            spasms sour my stomach and I recall

                        the many stores and rations Hart has left

                        taking near nothing for his walk back north

Well, that was his decision and not mine

            I think as I lift the storage cover

            and pull out a firm red apple, bite deep

                        and let the sweet juice sliver down my chin

As I swallow, I remember Hart’s hand

            holding out the apple to that woman

                        a venomous worm to my contentment

“Keep your apple!” I shout out loud to Hart

            and fling the once-bitten fruit overboard

“I’ve swallowed the bitter juice of that time

            while you cowered and complained and dragged behind!

  Then you ran scared, leaving all we had planned!”

I set the oars, pull hard, heaving fiercely

I haven’t exactly convinced myself

            but I have enough direction to know

I will not be the one limping back North

            with my tail quivering between my legs

I am heading South as first intended

I am the one who keeps our hearts’ desires

While there is sky and water, this journey

is not ended

I row on into night’s sheltering dark

            finding strength from the purging of those three

I pay no attention to lack of sleep

Only river voice beneath, broad and deep

I drift and row in a half-waking state

            not knowing or caring where I end up

Steadily gaining southern latitudes

            aiming, adjusting my new attitude

At dawn, I pull up Hart on shore and beach

I step off my ship – sand covers my feet

Wrapping a blanket, I curl up at dawn

            with calm mind and empty gut fall asleep

Background:

When I was very young, I embarked on many journeys, sailing my handmade boats when the water ran high in the country road ditches adjacent to our house and the airport I’ve talked about in other posts. Growing up a loner by choice and circumstances, I developed a wild imagination, and those sailing journeys have provided good material for this epic poem. Likewise, our MC has, contrary to the story so far, entered the internal realm that often takes over when alone. 

In my experience, too much solo time spent in imaginary worlds carries the risk of “dropping out” of everyday life, of relying too much on one’s own opinions, and of shutting out others. On the other hand, a dip into an extended stream of one’s own consciousness can raise up reconciliation with self and/or others, and help integrate past and current experiences. 

Like the MC, I grew up hovering between sky and earth. The ditch adventures mentioned above exemplify the ground, and the time I spent flying with my dad (see prior post, “Remembering Flight”) taught me to touch the stars. 

Exploration 1: Do you find this segment with its internal focus as interesting as prior Songs and segments where more action takes place, i.e., is this Song’s internal landscape enough to keep your interest?

Exploration 2: Do you find yourself judging the MC for drifting where the current goes? What advice, if any would you give? Perhaps you find yourself envious of the relative freedom?

Exploration 3: Summarize what the MC has learned so far in the narrative. Or not learned, in your opinion. Does the internal journey engaged in this Song support or hinder such learning?