Wednesday, June 17, 2015

home, a countdown

A Lover's Quarrel by Sam Hamill
There are some to whom a place means nothing,
for whom the lazy zeroes
a goshawk carves across the sky
are nothing
for whom a home is something one can buy.
I have long wanted to say,
just once before I die
I am home.


When I remember the sound of my country,
I hear winds
high up in the evergreens, the soft snore
of surf, far off, on a winter day
the half-garbled song of finches
darting off through alder
on a summer day


Lust does not
fatigue the soul, I say. This wind,
these ever-
green trees, this little bird of spirit-
this is the shape, the place of my desire. I'm free
as a fish or a stone


Don't tell me
about the seasons in the East, don't talk to me
about eternal California summer.
It's enough to have
a few naked days
among three hundered kinds of rain


I love the sound of a storm
without thunder, the way wind
slows, trees darken, heavy clouds
rumbling so soft
you must close your eyes to listen:
then the blotch, blotch
of big drips,
plunkering through the leaves
We will be home in 10 days!!!!!!!!

(I first encountered this poem while hiking, oddly enough. On a bluff that overlooks the water, pillars stand with poetry carved on them about the Pacific Northwest. I read this once and never forgot it. It is so perfect and beautiful. I could not have found better words for my home.) 



4 comments

  1. Going home after being away for ages is always an exciting time!

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    Replies
    1. It's like being a kid on Christmas Eve trying to sleep despite the anticipation of Santa's arrival!

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  2. It's a beautiful poem. Have an amazing trip. I assume it's just a visit.

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    Replies
    1. Thanks Amy! Yes-- we will be back in Taiwan for more adventures near and far in late August.

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