14 October 2006

Beyond Lamentation and Regrets

I do a lot of writing, less than I have in the past, and never so much than when I have lost. Whether it was a divorce, the loss of a family member, or lost opportunities, it always seemed I am at my best in writing when my life is near its worst. The only time that this has not been borne out was when I was inspired through travel or a political reaction. In some cases, I write from a historical point of view, but in the end, those pieces seem to have some political spin on them. I should point out most of what I write is poetry, though I do write short stories and essays from time to time, plus innumerous papers I have written for school. I think poetry is easiest to write through pain or through desire, each being a form of passion, one a focus of what was lost, and the other a focus of what could be. And passion is all about focus, a building of energy within that culminates in an some form of release of that energy. In the case of desire, that can easily be construed sexually, but a romantic poem written with that kind of energy is something to behold (and I am not massaging my ego here, I mean poetry in general). In the case of pain, poetry is safer than most of the alternatives.

This brings me to somewhat of a unique poem in that it shares both qualities: pain and desire. In the end, pain triumphs, but that is only because it normally does. The poem was written specifically for one person originally, knowing full well our desires could not work out, but later evolved into a general farewell to those I would never see again but would always be a part of me. In studying the poem now, I feel I am beyond most of it. A regret eats at a person, as does a lament. If not contained, it tears at the soul until one realises that you have been consumed by it. For a long time, I was consumed by many regrets, too many farewells, far too many endings. As I began to understand what I am a part of, the connection to the universe as a whole, that it is as much a part of us, as I am it, well... I can bury my regrets.


If we do not meet again…

What remains of my heart is
Inadequate to the task
One more failure
One more thing unsaid
A testament to nothing save
Empty hopes and dreams.

If we do not speak…

The strength that still holds is
Not quite enough
A tenuous glance
A nervous word or two forgotten
This wondrous desire
Laden with regret.

If we do not touch…

What is true in my soul
I cannot deny
Images beyond feeling
Memories out of joint in time
A misplaced connection
Meant for another life.

If you do not know…

The burden is mine to bear
Tempered by passion
I could not explain
Another moment
Another glance
Reduced to a simple lament.

If we do not meet again in this life…
Let me feel the lack


1 comment:

Omosun Sylvester urdeen said...

love ya work, am writing lamentation of us african poets who sees the daily conflicts..can u help me publish