The One – Song 8: Endings and Transitions, Segment 3

Originally published October 28, 2019...

After eight Songs and over 130 pages of Wannaskan Almanac posts, we have reached the end of “Movement One: Arriving,” a very long way from the “Dark Waters” of a birth coming into the light. After this post, we enter the “Second Movement: Becoming.” Although I’ve made little mention of the three movements that divide this epic poem and its Songs, the milestone points where the movements end and begin carry important information. 

Consider “Dark Waters,” the first Song in the First Movement: “Arriving.” Our main character has come a long way, indeed. Perhaps, you would like to quickly review the journey we have made so far. If so, the entire poem to date is contained on a separate website here for ease of reading. Nothing but The One resides at this site, and the poem is set up in order, from beginning to the most current posts. One caveat: as you know, due to the length of each Song, we post each Song in segments; however, only after all segments of a Song have been posted on the Almanac, do we post the entire Song on the web site just noted. 

That said, this third and final segment of Song 8 finds our protagonist (MC = main character) truly drifting, letting the river currents push where they will. So, please join in and get ready for this final segment of the final Song of the First Movement. After this, it’s all “Becoming.” 

The clock of noon rouses me on the sand

I rub my eyes and shake my arms and legs

            all parts complaining from the day before

            my hunger most of all moans and rumbles

Giving up disdain for Hart’s provisions

I rummage in the storage box to feed

            my weakened body and my ravaged mind

I sit on the stern bench rocking idly

I munch on carrots and stale rye-grain bread

Suddenly, a newer hunger rises 

I realize I have seen no people

            not least to say hello—a quick good day

Still, the taste of Hart and of that woman

            endure on my wounded mind’s attention 

Yet, I want to know how shore people 

            might spend days while my bow bobs on water

After eating, I decide to explore

To do this, I must secure my small ship

            so, I push off again and row relaxed

heading out to the river channel’s heart 

I am not hurried – nobody to meet

The current obliges flowing gently

I forego the walk along the shoreline

My body has hinged onto river rhythm

My heartbeats rest deeply in each moment

            beating time with the dripping wooden oars

Soaring above, seagulls call for no reason

obvious to me – gliding with their kind

Again, my thoughts turn toward cities’ people

The harbor bells that I have heard ahead

            grow louder as I row and I decide

                        to explore the next village or city

This creates a desire to walk firm ground

            and I row faster toward the ringing bells

Soon, I arrive at a stunning harbor

Larger craft and small at piers and moorings

            sailors on the bigger ships busily

                        attend to tasks I only imagine

                        but the lesser boats I do understand

Most of them possess sails all furled and quiet

Few of these vessels’ decks are occupied

I slide silent underneath a high dock

            and secure Hart tightly to a piling

            with enough line to swing out to a ladder

            stretching plumb from the pier to the water

I tie a stern line to the stout stairway

            open the box at the back of the boat

                        and take out the money that Hart and I

                                    squirrelled away and have used only little

I stuff the paper deep in my pocket

            climb up to the dock and walk away

My legs shake, my body wobbles walking

I’m surprised at how much the river rhythm

            has possessed my center’s hub through and through

Land and sand feel foreign, unforgiving

            of my feeble progress along the shore

I stop to let my swirling head settle

            and look out on the great ships riding high

                        and grand with sails folded and tied neatly

I realize that my boat is a tiny craft

            and that I am fortunate to come far

                        enough to see the river widen so 

                                    that the other shore is difficult to see

Suddenly, I feel a fool to ever 

think the red boat is a ship – no not that

            more like a raft, a platform with a sail

Certainly, those who’ve seen me shake their heads

            and to themselves call me crazy, stupid

So, I am, neither wise nor a sailor

            yet I’ve fancied myself a true captain

How deluded, a danger to myself

Maybe Hart was right to head back northward

            perhaps my behavior was all he needed

                        an excuse to end the unwise journey

But no, this is a rationalization

            for my careless, crude, horrid behavior

I have no one to blame but my own self

and in my heart, I ask true forgiveness

            though I did not see my treason toward Hart

All this deep thinking has allowed me time

            to gain my land legs to a loping gait

I feel in my pocket for the money

            nestled there like some charmed, quiet treasure 

                        which, indeed, it is, for unless I work

                        this is all there is between me and lost

                        strength, lost hope, and certain failure most dire

I ascend a staircase stretching from shore 

            to the city’s streets above so unknown

            yet tantalizing to the part of me

                        that I find myself nodding to strangers

                        and even smiling which surprises me

                        after all my self-criticism

Now, these other people bring happiness

            something I can’t remember when I’ve felt

            So strange that I find myself chuckling

I buy fruit, bread, and candy from street vendors

            store all in my pack slung from my shoulder

            Then explore the shops and their merchandise

I inspect my clothing and find it wanting

No wonder people passing looked at me

            with suspicious eyes and even malice  

I find a clothes seller, buy new garments

            and ask for my old wear to be thrown out

Back on the street, I decide it’s time to return to Hart.

I find that I do not know the way back

I retrace my path as best I can asking 

now and then, directions to the harbor

On the way, a rainstorm pours down the streets

driving people indoors huddling close 

I am so tired.  I just want to get back

to Hart, slip under canvas sail and sleep.  

Tears well up and spill down my sun-dried cheeks.  

Street lamps shimmer on, casting long shadows 

on pocked gray walls perspiring with the day’s 

accumulated warming and hard rain. 

Reaching the harbor, I take my bearings

and head for the pier where Hart is secured.  

I make a great effort not to stumble

I walk directly with grave intention 

but I spend the next hour hurrying down 

all the dead-end pier fingers; I grow more 

panicked as each row ends without Hart.  

Finally, I think I have the right row

Yes, this is it, I’m sure, sighing in relief

Stepping carefully down the straight ladder 

reaching for the stern line – find it missing

I search under, around, and far outward

Perhaps she’s come untied or I’ve come down 

the wrong pier again, but I am sure not

What thief would want to steal this tiny boat? 

Maybe I didn’t tie her well enough.

How could this happen!?  How could I lose both 

Hart and today the boat I gave his name!?  

The most unlikely answer leaps to mind.  

Hart has stolen the boat – I’m sure of it.

He followed me somehow to this moment

Hart spying on me hidden on the shore 

to see what wickedness to catch me in.  

The boat is in my sight every moment 

since we were separated, but today  

he had his only sly chance to steal it 

                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                                   

“Oh sure! Blame Hart,” I say sarcastically 

to myself, “when I’m the true careless one.”  

I should have bought a lock – it’s all my fault

I slump down hard on the pier completely 

dejected and hopeless.  I sit rocking,

my knees against my chest gazing out on 

the river waters, wishing I rode her  

“At least I still have a little money,”

 (“Enough to buy a coach seat back to town,” 

suggests a frightened voice inside my head.)  

“No!” I say out loud and spit.  “No! Never!”  

But what instead I have no idea.  

(“You could go back and leave again later,”

            whispers the younger, frightened voice inside me.)

“Shut up!” I hiss at this much younger self.  

“I won’t go back!”  I bury my face between my knees.

“Do you make a habit of talking to yourself?”

            a deep voice questions from close behind me. 

I nearly fall off the pier in panic

as I skitter around to see who’s there

Background

The main character has decided to explore the next town along the river, and so it comes to pass. The urge to go ashore appears to originate in both curiosity, and a need to be among others. This may be interpreted metaphorically as the individual and the larger community, with the lone person circling or passing by society. However, ramifications arise when the loner decides to come to shore. Will acceptance or rejection be the case? Is the loner really equipped to re-enter social interactions? Must one prepare for such re-entry, or is it possible to simply “dive in”? 

To speak personally, this Song is an exploration of my own solitary journey for part of my life, and the transition to my communities of interest. At this point in my life, I dare to say that I am content in either case; however, considering where I live, one might question my “urge” for a social life – and with good reason! So that’s the personal angle here.

Another more personal angle is what could be described as "remorse". the MC continues to engage in second-guessing, review mirror judgments, and self-blame. Sure, we all do this, some more than others. Regret and remorse, as I’ve said before, make for a harsh (and sometimes lonely) life. But stay tuned. Something major is about to happen in the next Song, number nine, “Darkness Rising,” the first of the Second Movement, “Becoming.”

Exploration 1: In your opinion, is the main character alone, lonely, or both, considering “my thoughts turn toward cities . . .?” 

Exploration 2: Do you find any implication in the statement by the main character that the red boat is not a ship? Is this a turning point?

Exploration 3: Like Exploration 2, do you sense any significance in the MC deciding on “self-blame” for what has happened to Hart, his friend? The river woman?

Exploration 4: What has happened to the boat? Has it been taken? If so, by whom?