Forever

[hack]

When it is time,
and death is the bend in the road,
I will hurry to that path,
then wait for you at the first clearing.
I can do nothing else.
Hand in hand,
we will walk the new terrain.

[everyadventure]

Incredible tenderness, here. Lovely post.

[Jack of Hearts]

When it is time,
and death is the bend in the road...

Really liked these lines, hack, but the rest of the poem felt like a cop-out, a yielding to sentiment. It's probably just a difference in ideology- this reader is a l'amour adverse cynic who believes humans make that last leap entirely alone. It'd take quite a poem to move this heart.





J

[everyadventure]

This reader believes Jack is carved from stone! ;)

[Bar22do]

This delicate poem written with much economy (your usual) would be stronger (artistically) if it could do without sentimentality. Little imperfections of your works don't spoil for me their enjoyment, though.

[Hawkman]

Finely honed expression makes this a pleasure to read, hack. I certainly don't consider it unduly sentimental. It speaks of acceptance and long term companionship to me.

Live and be well - H

[Jerrybaldy]

It seems to me that at times the shorter the piece the more the comments delve. I read religion and afterlife in your few lines. If death is but a bend in the road, you would have to believe the road went on. I am delving, to prove my own point now :D. Good work, Hack

[hack]

Maybe you are right. Robert Browning said, "Take away love and our
earth is a tomb". That may be a little sappy, but it is also true.
The imagery of death as a bend in the road is Fernando Pessoa's.
I stole it.
J of H, there may be a cure for your condition, try Pablo Neruda.

[hack]

Thanks for the reads.

[Haunted]

Lovely. I totally get it. But I'm usually the other person and hoping they'll be patient enough to wait for me.

[Jack of Hearts]

Dr. hack your prescription does a body good.


Morning by Pablo Neruda


Naked you are simple as one of your hands;
Smooth, earthy, small, transparent, round.
You've moon-lines, apple pathways
Naked you are slender as a naked grain of wheat.

Naked you are blue as a night in Cuba;
You've vines and stars in your hair.
Naked you are spacious and yellow
As summer in a golden church.

Naked you are tiny as one of your nails;
Curved, subtle, rosy, till the day is born
And you withdraw to the underground world.

As if down a long tunnel of clothing and of chores;
Your clear light dims, gets dressed, drops its leaves,
And becomes a naked hand again.






J