who opens the door,
and who is knocking;
and who shoulders the dry, heaving breast of winter,
when whoever fires the gun?
is it really true the season's aimless,
when the hot breath of summer has begun;
and who'll dry the tears of springtime
when the vacant memory grows more dumb?
and who remembers,
and who forgets;
and what of earth is worth remembering
when everything's peace is forever forfeit?
I love poems like this. They stick with you and put your gears to work. It's like walking around with a Rubik's cube trying to line up all of the correct parts.
ReplyDeleteI like the questioning nature of this poem...and the last line is unforgetable....I hope "everything" doesn't forfiet all peace, however...but rather finds a sliver of it somewhere...or even just a piece of peace...then ther might be two peace in a pod....sorry I couldn't resist...*smile*
ReplyDeleteI love the effect you have achieved with the personification of the seasons - it brings such vigor to your theme.
ReplyDelete