The stars called me when I was tiny –
lulled half asleep half thoughtful
on the car’s vinyl back seat.
They did not sing, they
only telescoped into
impossible distances
and pasts that could
not have been: I
knew at once
they never
were the
way they
looked
to me.
The flat meadow by the woods
with its happy muddy banked
brook and tall weed flowers
smelling of strong herbs
called me when
I was little –
to sit and watch water’s infinite
variability, while small bare
feet pressed into sad, warm
mud, and furtive things
with lives all their own
moved beneath the
grass: my first
heaven.
Clover and garlic by the pale
forsythia called me when
I was small – painting
my skin with bitter
bright dandelions,
giggling and
believing I
could do
anything.
Green mountains (not Himalayan
high) called me when I was still
young – old, low, moist, they
made me ache and
understand infinite
homesick sadness;
I have spent all
the years since
trying to get
to them –
to really
get to
them.
Christmas light blue called me
long ago, cold and warm at
once, like living in the sky –
a self-contradictory color,
want having desire con-
tent. Had your eyes
been a shade less
blue, I’d probably
not have loved
you. (That was
the thing about
you that first
called me.
I think this is excellent poem, very meaningful! In a way it reminds me of my dad, many things called to him, but he never quite found most of them. I think this a poem many people can relate to, because there is so much in life that never really materializes. And I love the way you have ended it, makes it all together a very thought provoking poem! In some ways it has a feel like some classic poetry, but in a modern way!
Thanks. From your descriptions (poem and comments) of your dad I understand the relationship to this..
i just loved, loved, loved the poem, you were quite like me when you were child, all sorts of places used to call me to lose myself in them! the bushes, the ponds, the fields….
Thanks. It’s good when something resonates.