Verdandi
by Seawalker
Mother looks up from her loom, the colored whirl
Of tapestry, and smiles. I know, she says. My mother
And daughter are much more interesting than I am.
There is the fascination of the past, the wistful thought
That things were not as they truly were, or that you
Might have made them different. And the future, that is
Unspoiled territory, still the stuff of fantasies,
Not the ceaseless groaning convergence of circumstance
That we struggle to bind together as each thread
Snaps and breaks. But do you not see, dreamer,
I am where you live. You live in me,
Every moment, without exception. I am where joy
Of the body lives, of the senses, of ecstasy.
There is no ecstasy in my mother’s world,
For it has faded and worn beggar-sole-thin,
Nor my daughter’s, for there joy lies unborn.
If you want joy, you come to me, and buy it
With sorrow, with pain, with all the other moments
You run from me to escape. But it won’t matter,
You’ll still live here, with me,
Most of the time, anyhow.
I am the Now that will not be denied,
No matter how much you run.
I am the Now that you will regret having wasted
When it slips away behind you
And before you is only the knife.
Artwork by Righon.